Weird Tales v15n05 (1930 05) (sas)

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EDMOND HAMILTON
EVERIL WORRELL
CLARH ASHTON SMITH
PAUL ERNST
G.G.PENDARVES
R.C SAN D1 SON
EARL LEASTON BELL

Qua? 1930

Missing Page

Missing Page

VOLUME XV

01ZARRE and UNUSUAl

NUMBER 5

REGISTERED IN

KMACAZINE of the

Published monthly by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 2467 E. Wash-
ington Street, Indianapolis, Ind. Entered as second-class matter March 20, 1928, at
the post office at Indianapolis, Ind., under the act of March 3, 1879. Single copies, 26
cents. Subscription, $2.60 a year in the United States, $3.00 a year in Canada. English
•office: Charles Lavell, 13, Serjeant’s Inn, Fleet Street, E. C. 4, London. The publishers
are not responsible for the loss of unsolicited manuscripts, although every care will be
taken of such material while in their possession. The contents of this magazine are
fully protected by copyright and must not be reproduced either wholly or in part without
permission from the publishers.

NOTE — All manuscripts and communications should be addressed to the publishers*
Chicago office at 840 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, HI.

FARNSWORTH WRIGHT, Editor.

Copyright, 1930, by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company

Contents for May, 1930

Cover Design C. C. Senf

Illustrating a scene in ^^The Brain-Thief*

The Eyrie 580

A chat vnth the readers

Shadows on the Road Robert E. Howard 586

Verse

The Brain-Thief Seabury Quinn 588

An almost unthinkably weird situation tests Jules de Gran-
dmas powers

The Sun People - Edmond Hamilton 606

A thrilling novelette about a race of people living in the
interior of a gigantic sun

[CONTINUED ON NEXT PAGE]

578

OOPYIUQHTSO IN QRBAT BRITAIN

[continued feom preceding page]

River of Lost Souls R. 0. Saudisoo 625

An eery story of the undead — of a vampire of old Spain who
was not bound by the ordinary limitations of vampires

Marmora Donald Wandrei 636

Verse

The End of the Story Clark Ashton Smith ^7

A strange tale about a lamia who dwelt beneath the ruins
of the Castle of Faussesflammes

The Land of Lur Earl Leaston Bell 649

A bizarre extravaganza about a loeird country beset by ter-
rible beings

The Black Monarch (Part 4) Paul Ernst 656

A stupendous five-part serial story of incarnate evil — a tale
of an unthinkable doom hanging over mankind

Light-Echoes Everil Worrell 671

An occult-scientific story that goes beyond Einstein in the
daring audacity of its science

The Whistler August W. Derleth 682

Who was it whose eery whistle came out of the darkness
there on the African veldt?

The Footprint G. G. Pendarves 686

Back from the gates of hell came Jerry’s grandfather— a
grim story of black magic and evil rites

Recapture H. P. Lovecraft 693

Verse

Seven Drops of Blood H. P. Jamison 604

An outrS story about a man who found out how to bring the
dead back to life

Weird Story Reprint:

The Magic Egg Prank R. Stockton 699

An American story-teller describes a strange exhibition de-
vised by a magician to astonish his sweetheart

For AdTertising Bates In WEXBD TAUECS Apply Direct to

WEIRD TALES

Western Adrertising OfBeei Eastern Advertising Office:

BARLET I.. WARD, KNC., Mgr. OEOBOE W. STEARNS, Mgr.

360 N. Michigan Ave. Flatiron Bnilding

Chicago, III, New Tork, N. T.

Phone, Central 6369 Phone, Algonquin 8338

“WTT THERE do you tiihik Poe and E. T. A, Hoffmann would take their
WW sttiff if they wei’e alive today?" asks William Bolitho in his article
* * on “Pulp Magazines" in the New York World. And he supplies,
bj' inference, the answer: In Weird Tales, of course.

The pulp magazines have had few defenders, for it is the custom of snob-
bery to look down on them as sometliing inferior in literarj’’ merit. It is
refreshing, therefore, to see a recognized authority on contemporary literature
rise to their defense. The pulp magazines, says Mr. Bolitho, “are printed on
paper which in a short year is yellow; in five more cracks and crumbles, and
by the time its first peruser is earning $40 a week and has a garage will have
utterly di.sapi)eared in dust. As it is, it is hai*der to find a given out-of-print
back number of any one of them than a first folio of Shakespeare. ... I will
distinguish them, roughly, into three unequal classes : the detective magazines,
the adventure series and those of general fancy. . . . ' Those two we will for
the moment leave for the third queer class; that is the most curious. It is
composed of collections of short tales of fancy and imagination. A curious
internal classification, well understood by the adepts, rules here. The range
is, I’oughly, to use name.s; from Astounding Stories of Superscience, as the
French would say, on the right, through Amazing Stories in the -center, to
the altogether admirable — ^that is my personal taste — ^Weird Tales on the
extreme left of imagination, which adds proudly to its title The Unique Mag-
azine.

“Now the real defense of this class of popular literature has to be ex-
plained. . . . Literature, like all the arts, at its worst and at its best, has
this in common all through : it is an assistance to the imagination. At worst
it is a prop, a crutch to the imagination, that allows not more than a walk,
which is cumbersome, and which health finally discards. The highest reaches
of art not only support you but by a raysteidous internal working suffuse you
like wdne, as against crutches, to such a degree that in certain cases it may
even stimulate into action an independent and original creative faculty it-
self. ... In youth, especially, there are certain works which in themselves

(Continued on page 58S)

580

WEIRD TALES

581

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Eg&^t

preserved their secrets

-'{qxi/ou/

JTow they are offered to you so that you, too, can rise to the splendor
and power of the secret Masters of the East. Never has such an offering
been made as the Rosicrucians present to the selected few. The Magi of
the Orient were Master Minds. Egypt was the most advanced country
in the world — through secret knowledge. Even today scientists are
vainly hunting for buried secrets of Egypt's methods of making gold,
preventing disease and prolonging life. But, her rare knowl-
edge was not hidden in tombs and pyramids. There was tho
SECRET FRATERNITY — the mystic, arcane, schools of the
Magi, which passed on the great Wisdom and mystic power
to its successor, THE FRATERNITY OF THE ROST CROSS.
Today the Rosicrucians teach the worthy and sincere tho
astounding principles which make men and women Masters
of Pate. If you feel that you are truly ready to study th«
Mysteries of Life, you may have a FREE BOOK, sent to you
without obligation by addressing a letter to:

LIBRARIAN F. X. W.

ROSICRUCIAN BROTHERHOOD

(AMORC)

(Perpetuating the Original Fraternity) San Joee, Calif.

Anyone interested In
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109 X. Dearborn St, ChicagOj m«

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582

WEIRD TALES

(Continued from page 580)

later, in cold, middle-aged blood, perhaps seem mere frameworks, but which
eminently and delightfully serve as catalysts for the imagination, which in
everyone is then at its boiling-point, to combine with the unutterable and
endless beauty of the world. So these magazines. I know as well as anyone
that they are in a certain proportion, as large as you like, the product of
hack writers. What does that matter? The strange thing in these circles is that
criticism is probably much more remorseless and sincere than in the more
pret^tious. For hack or not, whatever the pay, each of the pulp magazine
authors has to produce interest; he has to hold his readers, not merely to
show how clever he is, or he is lost.

“And the standard, the unjust literary standard itself, is surprizin^y
satisfied often with them. Make no mistake about that. In almost any one
of them there are one or two tliat are really good, not merely catah'tic, as I
have said, but nourishing. Why should not this be so? Why, hpre is the
folldore stratum, where the stoutest talents have always raoted themselves.
Here and not in the artificial heat of tender little highbrow re'vdews is Avhere
one should look for the real new talent. . . .

“In this world there are chiefs, evidently. I am inclined to think they must
be pretty good. There are Otis Adelbert Kline and H. P. Lovecraft, whom I
am sure I would rather read than many fashionable lady novelists they give
teas to; and poets too. Meditate on that, you who are tired of the strained
prettiness of the verse in the great periodicals, that there are still poets here of
the pure Poe school who sell and are printed for a vast public.”

“I have been a reader of Weird Tales since the first issue,” writes D. V.
Simpson, of Marion, Ohio. “I have not missed more than one or two copies
in all that time. Ever since I was a child I have been partial to stories of
the type that you publish, but until the appearance of this magazine there
were very few of them to be had. Of all those who write for Weird Tales —
and most of your authors are fine — I think I prefer Lovecraft. I wish that
his stories might appear much more often, and I think this is the prevailing
sentiment among your readers.”

A letter from Rose Nieseik, of South Banchester, Connecticut, says: ** Be-
hind the Moon ended very well, and the whole adventure was very exciting.
But I think that the new serial. The Black Monarch, will surpass it. It’s very
thrilling. I like that kmd of story. ThiVsfy Bhides was also very good. I can’t
wait till I receive the March issue. ”

A letter from Arthur L. Bayne, of Brooklyn, New York, says: “For the
first time since I started reading Weird Tales I am enclosing the ‘favorite
stories’ coujion. Beyond question The Thought Monster is a marvelous crea-
tion of the author. Your stories have always averaged high. I like par-
ticularly the interplanetary tales; strange lands and strange peoples are
always engrossing. Let me again repeat that Weird Tales gives me the spice
for my monthly literary meals.”

(Continued on page 584)

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584

WEIRD TALES

(Continued from page 582)

“I thought TJie Haunted Chessmen in the March W. T. a grand story;
-M)n6 of the verj’^ best chess stories I’ve read,” writes Edmond Hamilton,
author of The Sun People in this issue.

Robert L. Grantham, of Cainsville, Ontario, writes to the Eyrie: “I have
been very disappointed in not reading more stories by Murray Leinster. I
don’t, think any readers will ever forget his gripping story, The Strange
PeopU, which appeared in your magazine about two years ago. Let us have
more stories by him if possible. Robert E. Howard is one of my favorite
authors. I wish we had more stories of Solomon Kane by liim. The Haunted
Chessmen, by E. R. Punslion, is certainly your best story in the March issue,
with Gaston Leroux’s story. In Letters of Fire, a close second. Let us have
more reprmts from your early issues.” [A new Solomon Kane story by Mr.
Howard will appear in next month’s issue— The Editor.]

A. V. Pershing, of Kenova, West Virginia, writes to the Ejune: “Give us
stories of werewolves, the Oriental, China, Atlantis, ghost stories, and the
type that Lovecraft wrote. Please reprint Beyond the Door by Paul Suter,
and all of H.P. Lovecraft ’s stories, beginning with The Bats in the Walls. Give
us, please, more stories from H. P. Lovecraft, Eli Colter and H. de Vere
Staepoole. Keep Weird Tales weird.” [The Rats in the Walls will be the
reprint story in next month’s issue. — The Editor.]

Readere, what is your favorite story in this issue of Weird Tales? The
most popular storj’^ in the March issue was The Haunted Chessmen hy E. R.
Punshon. Second and third places went to The Drums of Damhallah by
Seabury Quimi, and In Letters of Fire by Gaston Leroux.

MY FAVORITE STORIES IN THE MAY WEIRD TALES ARE :
Story Remarks

( 1 )

( 2 )

(3)

I do not like the following stories:

(1) Why*

( 2 )

It will help US to know what kind of
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Shadows on the Road

By ROBERT E. HOWARD

Nial of Ulster, welcome home !

What saw you on the road to Rome ? —

Legions thronging the fertile plains?

Shouting hordes of the country folk
With the harvest heaped in their groaning wains?
Shepherds piping under the oak?

Laurel chaplet and purple cloak?

Smokes of the feasting coiled on high?

Meadows and fields of the rich, ripe green
Lazing under a cobalt sky?

Brown little villages sleeping between?

What saw you on the road to Rome ?

“Crimson tracks in the blackened loam,

“Skeleton trees and a blasted plain,

“A heap of skulls and a child insane,

“Ruin and wreck and the reek of pain
‘ ‘ On the wrack of the road to Rome. ’ ’

Nial, what saw you in Rome ? —

Purple emperors riding there,

Down aisles with walls like marble foam,

To the golden trumpet ’s mystic flare ?

Dark-eyed women who bind their hair,

As they bind men’s hearts, with a silver comb ?

Spires that cleave through the crystal air.

Arch and altar and amaranth stair?

Nial, what saw you in Rome?

“Broken shrines in the sobbing gioam,

“Bare feet spuming the marble flags,

“Towers fallen and walls digged up,

‘ ‘ A woman in chains and filthy rags.

“Goths in the Forum howled to sup,

“With an emperor’s skull for a drinking-cup.

“The black arch clave to the broken dome.

“The Coliseum invites the bat,

“The Vandal sits where the C«sars sat;

“And the shadows are black on Rome.’’

Nial, Nial, now you are home.

Why do you mutter and lonely roam?

“My brain is sick and I know no rest ;

“My heart is stone in my frozen breast,

“For the feathers fall from the eagle’s crest
“And the bright sea breaks in foam —

“Kings and kingdoms and empires fall,

“And the mist-black min covers them all,

“And the honey of life is bitter gall
“Since I traveled the road to Rome.’’

586

Next Month

Another great collection of fine stories is scheduled for the June issue of Weikd Tales,

on sale May 1.

The

Priestess of the Ivory Feet

by Seabury Quinn

An utterly wtrango story about a sinister love-cult anJ a kiss
whlfh meant death for him who gave It.

In the Borderland

by Pedro Diaz

A wholly strange and unusual thrilling talc
of the electric chair — a weird story of ex-
traordinary interest and fascination.

Haunted Hands

by Jack Bradley

The hands of Tchianskl the pianist were the
hands of a killer — a gruesome and powerful
story of diabolism.

The Moon of Skulls

by Robert E. Howard

A powerful story of mystery and horror in the nightmare val-
ley of Negarl; a tale of a mad people, and Nakura, God of
the Skull — by the author of "Skull-Pace” and "The Shadow
Kingdom."

James Lamp

by E. F. Benson

-Vnother line tale by one of the best-known
British writers of weird storie.s.

The Empty Road

by Wallace West

A weird and thrilling tale about a man who
was able to remember the future as well as
the past.

The Planet of Horror

by Wilford Allen

The weirdest interplanetary story over written — about a
strange horror that lurked in the alr-Ianes between the
planets.

Tlicse are some of the super-excellent stories that will appear in the June issue of

Weikd Tales.

Subscription Bates: $2.50 a year in U. S. or possessions; Canadian $3.00; Foreign $3.50.
Weird Tales. 840 N. Michigan Ave. Chicago, III,

‘^rW^IENS, Monsieur, you amaze
m me, you astound me; I am
JL astonished, I assure you. Say
on, if you please; I am entirely at-
tentive.” Jules de Grandin’s voice,
vibrant with interest, came to me as
I closed the front door and walked
down the hall toward my consulting-
room.

“Hola, Friend Trowbridge,” he
hailed as his quick ear cau^t rriy
step outside, ‘‘‘come here, if you
588

please; thex'e is something I would
have you hear, if you can spare the
time,”

The tall young man, prematurely
gray at the temples, seated opposite
de Grandin rose as I entered the study
and greeted me with an air of re-
straint.

‘‘Oh, how d’ye do?” I growled
■grudgingly, then turned my back on
the visitor as I looked inquiringly at
de Grandin. If there was one person

more than another whom I did not
desire my roof to . shelter, it was
Qirffitoidier Norton, I'd known the
cttb sitiee his first second of life, had
tended him for measles, whooping-
cough and chicken-pox, had seen hin

safely through adc^esceuce, and was
among the first to wsdi him. luck when
he married Isabel Littlewood. Now,
like eveiy decent man in the city, I
had no desire to see any of him, ex-
cept Ms back, and that at as great a

5S3

590

WEIRD TALES

distance as possible. “If you’ll excuse

me ’’ I began, turning toward the

door.

“Parbleu, that is exactly what I
shall notl” de Grandin denied. “I
know what you think, my friend; I
know what everyone thinks, but I
shall make you and all of them change
your minds; yes, by damn, I swear it !
Come, good friend, be reasonable. Sit
and listen to the story I have heard,
suspending your judgment meantime.

“Say it again, young Monsieur,”
he ordered the visitor. “Relate your
so pitiful tale from the beginning,
that Dr. Trowbridge may loiow as
much as I.”

There was such a look of distress
on young Norton’s face as he looked
half ple^ingly, half fearfully at me
that, had he been anything but the
thoroughgoing scoundrel he was, I
could have found it in my heart to be
sorry for him. “It seems Isabel and
I have been divorced,” he began,
almost tentatively. “I — I suppose I
wasn’t as good to her as I might have
been ”

“You suppose, you confotmded
young whelp!” I burst out. “You
know you treated that girl as no
decent man would treat a dog! You
know perfectly well you broke her
heart and every promise you made
her at the altar — ^you smashed her life
and betrayed her confidence and the
confidence of every misguided friend

who trusted you ” I choked wath

anger, and wheeled furiously on de
Grandin.

“Listen to me,” I ordered. “I
don’t know what this good-for-nothing
young reprobate has been telling you,
but I tell you whatever he’s said is a
pack of lies — ^lies from beginning to
end. I’ve known him all his life —
helped him begin breathing thirty
years ago by slapping his two-seconds-
old posterior with a w'et towel — and
I’ve known the girl he married all her
life, too. He and she were bom with-
in a city block of each other, less than
n mon^ apart. Their parents were

friends, they went to school together
and played together, and were boy
and girl sweethearts. When they
finally married, all us old fools who’d
watched them grow from childhood
swarmed round and gave them our
blessing. Then, by George, before
they’d been married a year, this
young jackanapes showed himself in
his true colors. He abused her, beat
her, finally deserted her and ran off
with his best friend’s wife. If that’s
the sort of story you’ve listened to,
I’m surprized ”

“Cordieu, surprized you most as-
suredly shall be, my friend, but not
as you think,” de Grandin inter-
rupted. “Be good enough to seize
your tongue-tip between thumb ^di
forefinger while the young Monsieur
concludes his story.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me,
sir,” young Norton began again; “I
don’t know I’d believe such a story
if it were told me — ^but it’s true, all
the same. As far as I can remember,
the last time I saw Isabel was this
morning when I left for the office.
We’d had a little misunderstanding —
nothing serious, but enough to put us
both in a huff — and I stopped at
Caminelli’s and bought some roses as
a peace-offering on my way home to-
night.

“I fairly ran the last half-block to
the house, and didn’t wait for the
maid to let me in. It was when I got
in the hall I fii'st noticed changes.
Most of the old furniture was gone,
and what remained was standing in
different places. I thought, ‘She’s
been doing a lot of house-cleaning
since this morning,’ but that was all.
I was too anxious to find her and
make up, you see.

“I call^, ‘Isabel, Isabel!’ once or
twice, but no one answered. Then I
ran xipstairs.”

He paused, looking pleadingly at
me, and the half-puzzled, half-
frightened look which had been on his
face throughout his recital deepened.

“There was a nurse — a nurse in

THE BRAIN-THIEF

591

hospital uniform — leaving the room
as I ran dotvn the upper hall,” he
continued slowly. “She looked at me
and smiled, and said, ‘Why, how nice
of you to bring the flowers, Mr. Nor-
ton. I’m sure they’ll be delighted.’

“That ‘they’ didn’t mean an^hing
to me then, but a moment later it did.
On the bed, with a little, new baby
cuddled in the curve of her elbow, lay
Betty Baintree ! Try and realize that.
Dr. Trowbridge; Betty, Jack Bain-
tree’s wife, whom I’d last seen at the
Colony Country Club dance last
Thursday night, was lying in bed in
my house, a young baby in her arms!

‘ ‘ She greeted me familiarly. ‘ Why,
Kit, dear,’ she said, ‘I didn’t expect
you so soon. Thanks for the flowers,
honey. ’ Then : ‘ Come kiss baby ; she’s
been restless for her daddy the last
half-hour. ’

“It was then she seemed to notice
• the look of blank amazement on my
face for the first time. ‘Kit, boy,
whatever is the matter?’ she asked.
‘Don’t you ’

“ ‘Wha — what are you doing here,
Betty ? ’ I managed to gasp. ‘ Isabel —
where is she?’

“ *Isahelf’ she echoed incredu-
lously. ‘What’s got into you, dear —
what makes you look so strangely?
Haven’t you any greeting for your
wife and baby?’

“ ‘My — wife — and — baby?’ I stam-
mered. ‘But ’

“I don’t know just what happened
next, sir. I’ve a confused recollection
of staggering from that accursed
room, stumbling down the stairs and
meeting the nurse, who looked at me
as though she’d seen a ghost, then
tottering toward the door and run-
ning, hatless and coatless, to my
mother’s house in Aubumdale Ave-
nue. I ran up the steps, tried the
door and found it locked. Then I
almost beat in the panels with my
fists. A strange maid, not old Sadie,
answered my frantic summons and
looked at me as though she suspected
my reason. The family occupying

the house was named Bronson, she
told me. They’d lived there for the
past two years — ‘since shortly after
the tvidow Norton’s death.’

“ ‘Am I mad, or is this all some
horrible nightmare?’ I asked myself
as I turned once more toward my
home, or rather toward the house
which had been my home this morn-
ing.

“It wasn’t a dream, as I assured
myself when I returned and found
Betty crying hysterically in bed with
the nurse trying to comfort her and
looking poisoned daggers at me as I
came in the door.

“T GOT my hat and coat and wan-
dered about town looking for
someone I knew — someone who might
offer me a ray of comforting light to
guide me through the terrible fog into
which I seemed to have plunged. Half
a block from home I met Dr. Ray-
mond, of the Presbyterian Church,
whom I’d known since I was a lad in
his Sunday School’s infant class. I
spoke to him, tided to stop him, but
he passed me without a sign of recog-
nition. Either he cut me dead or
failed to see me, as though I ’d been a
disembodied spirit.

“Finally, I managed to locate
Freddy Myers. He and I were in
high school and college together, and
had always been good friends. He let
me in, but that was about alL Not a
word of greeting, save a chilly ‘How
do you do?’ Not a smile, not even a
handshake did he offer me, and he re-
mained standing after I’d come into
the hall and made no move to take my
hat and coat or invite me to be seated.

“I put the proposition squarely up
to him; told him what I’d just been
through, and asked him for God’s sake
to tell me where Isabel was. The news
of my mother’s death two years before
was shock enough, but Isabel’s disap-
pearance — ^Betty Baintree in my
house, and tbe baby — I was like an
earthman suddenly set down on the
moon.

592

WEIRD TALES

“For A wiilo Frod iistenod to me
as lie h&v^ listened to the rav-
ings of a dmukec man; then he a^md
me if I were trjTiig to hid him. When
I assured him I w'as sinoere in my
questions, he grew angry and told
me, just as you have. Dr. Trowbridge,
how I’d abused Isabel, how my dis-
graceful amours with other women
had finally forced her to divorce me,
and how I was ostracized by every
decent man who’d known me in the
old days. Finally, he ordered me out
and told me he’d punch my face if
1 ever spoke to him again.

“I don’t know what to think, sir.
Freddy’s abuse was so genuine, his
anger so manifestly sincere and his
seom so pat^tly righteous that I
knew it couldn’t all some ghastly
practical jc^e of which I was the vic-
tim. Besides, there was the strange
maid in Mother’s house and the news
of Mother’s death — that couldn’t have
been arranged, even if Isabel and
Betty and Freddy had joined in a
conspiracy to punish me for the burst
of nasty temper I showed this morn-
ing.

“For a little while I thought I’d
gone crazy and all the astonishing
things which seemed tp have happened
were only the vagaries of a lunatic.
Indeed, sir, I’m not sure I’m sane,
even yet — I hope to God I ’m not ! But
what am I to dot Can’t anybody ex-
plain the situation to me? Suppose
you found yourself in my place, sir. ’ ’
He turned appealing, haunted eyes on
me.

“Then I remembered hearing some-
one tell of the wonderful things Dr.
de Grandin did, ’ ’ he concluded. “I’d
been told he’d coiTccted maladjusted
destinies as though by magic, some-
times; so I’ve come here as a last re-
sort.

“You’re my last hope^ Dr. de
Grandin,’’ he finished tragically. “I
don’t know, except by inference and
such reconstruction of events as I can
make from the crazy, meaningless
things I’ve seen and heard tonight,

what ’s happened, but cme thing seesns
certain: For the last two years time
has stood still for me. There’s been
a slice of two years carved right out
of my memory, and all the terrible
things which have occurred during
that period are a sealed book to me.
Can’t you do something for me, sir?
If you can’t, for God’s sake, send me
to a lunatic asylum. I don’t know
just what sins I’ve committed, but
even though I’ve committed them un-
consciously, the uncertainty of it idl
is driving me to madness, and an
asylum seems the only refuge left.”

Jules de Grandin brushed the
tightly waxed ends of his small blond
mustache with the tip of a well-mam-
cured forefinger. “I think w^e need
not consider the padded cell as yet,
my friend,” he, encouraged. “At
present I am iiicUned to prescribe a
stiff dose of Dr. Trowbridge’s best
brandy for you — and a like potion
for myself.

“And now, Monsieur,’’ he con-
tinued as he drained the final drop of
cognac from his goblet, “I would sug-
gest that you take the medicine I shall
prepare, then go to bed — Friend
Trowbridge has a spai’e chamber for
your accommodation.”

For a few moments he busied him-
self in the surgery, returning with a
beaker of grayish, cloudy liquM,
which young Norton tossed off at a
gulp.

T en minutes later, with my un-
welcome guest soundly sleeping in
my spare be^’oom, de Grandin took
up a pencil and pad of note-paper and
turned to me. “Tell me, mon vieux,”
he ordered, “all you can of this so
unfortunate young man’s domestic
tragedy.”

“Humph,” I retorted, still smart-
ing at the generous use he had made
of my hospitality, “there’s precious
little to teU. Kit Norton is a rotter
from the backbone out; there’s not an
oimee of decency in his whole make-
up, The girl he married was one of

THE BRAIN-THIEF

593

the finest yoimg women in the city,
absolutely above reproach in every
way, and they seemed ideally happy
for a little time; then, without a mo-
ment’s warning, his whole nature
seemed to change. He became an utter
sot, found fault with everything she
did, and blamed her for his business
reverses — he had plenty of ’em, too,
for he began to neglect his real estate
office at the same time he began
neglecting his wife — ^and it wasn’t
long before his affairs with other
women became the scandal of the
town. The climax came when he and
Betty Baintree eloped.

“Norton and Frank Baintree had
been inseparable friends from boy-
hood. Frank married Betty a short
time after Kit and Isabel were mar-
ried, and the couples continued the
friendship. When Kit and Betty ran
off, of course, the lid blew off the
whole rotten mess. It was then we all
realized Kit’s contemptible conduct
toward Isabel was all part of a de-
liberately planned scheme to force her
to divorce him — and the proof of it
was that Betty had acted toward
Frank just as Kit had acted toward
Isabel for about the same period.
There’s no doubt of it, the brazen
pair had conspired to force a divorce
so they could be free to marry, and
when their plans failed to work, they
had the effrontery to elope, leaving
identical notes with their deserted
partners. It’s an unsavory business
from stai*t to finish, de Grandin, and
I wisli you hadn’t gotten mixed up in
it, for ’’

“Non, let us not be too hasty.
Friend Trowbridge,’’ the little
Frenchman interrupted. “See, you
have already given me much of im-
portance to think of. Had not Ma-
dame Betty’s conduct been identical
with that of Monsieur Christopher, I
might have seen a reason for it all;
as it is — eh bien, I know not quite
what to think. Such eases, however,
are not altogether unknown. Once
before I have seen something like feis.

A certain tradesman in Lyons — a
draper, he was — left his home for the
shop one morning, and was heard
from no more. Five years passed,
and he was thought dead by all who
knew him, Avhen pouf! where should
he be found but living in Marseilles,
happy and respectable as ooTild be,
with another wife and a family of
fine, healthy children? In Lyons he
had been a draper; in Marseilles he
was a bricklayer — a trade, by the
way, for which he had no apparent
ability in his former life. Maurice
Simon, his name was, but in Marseilles
he knew liimself only as Jean Dufoiu*.
Every test was made to prove him a
malingerer, but it seemed established
beyond all reasonable doubt that the
unfortunate man was actually suffer-
ing a split consciousness — all memory
of his former life in Lyons was com-
pletely obliterated from his mind, and
his wife and children were utter
strangers to him. Reproaches and
argument alike left him unmoved. 'I
am Jean Dufour, bricklayer, of Mar-
seilles,’ he repeated stubbornly. At
last they managed to convince him of
his identity. The realization of what
he had done, how he had wrecked two
women’s lives and the lives of his
children, drove him mad. He died
raving in a hospital for the insane.’’

“But that can’t possibly be the
case here,’’ I expostulated. “We
know ’’

“ Pardonnez-moi, we know nothing;
even less,’’ de Grandin denied.
“Come, let us go.’’

“ Go ? ’ ’ I echoed. ‘ ‘ Go where ? ’ ’

“To interview Madame Betty, of
course,’’ he returned coolly. “I may
be wrong, but unless I am more mis-
taken than I think, we may find inter-
esting developments at her home.”

Grumbling, but -with my curiosity
piqued, I rose to accompany him to
the pretty little cottage whero Kit
Norton had taken his bride three
years before.

“It is most strange,” he muttered
as we passed through the quiet

594

WEIRD TALES

streets. “It seems hardly likely the
poor Monsieur Christopher should
have suffered the same fate. And
yet ” He broke off musingly.

“What’s that?” I adted sharply,
annoyed at his persistent s>Tnpathy
for young Norton.

“I did but think aloud,” he re-
turned. ‘ ‘ The unfortunate gentleman
of Lyons, of whom I spoke earlier in
the evening — his aberi-ation was an
oddly tangled one. Investigations by
the police showed that several days
before he deserted his family and set
out for Marseilles, he had an alterca-
tion with a certain fortune-telling
man from the Bast; indeed, he had
gone so far as to tweak his nose, and
the Oriental had pronounced a curse
of forgetfulness on him. ’ ’

A s WE paused before the cottage
gate a long roadster, driven as
though contending for a racing-
trophy, dashed past us and stopped
at the curb with a screeching of
sharply applied brakes. A moment
later its occupant leaped out and ran
at breakneck speed up the brick path
leading to Norton’s front stoop.
“Lesterdale!” I exclaimed in sur-
prize.

“Eh, what do you say?” de Gran-
din asked.

. “That’s Lesterdale, the best nerve
man in the city,” I responded. “Won-
der w’hat brings him here?”

“Let us see,” the Frenchman re-
turned matter-of-faetly. “The house
is open. Let us enter.”

Dr. Lesterdale had a ease worthy of
all his skill, we discovered almost as
soon as we marched unbidden into
Norton’s cottage.

Betty Norton crouched in her bed,
her knees drawn up, her chin resting
on them, and her arms flailing the un-
resisting air with the fury of the
grand movement stage of hysteria. As
we paused at the bedroom door we
caught a glimpse of her tear-smeared
face as she stared wildly about the
room with wide, horror-numbed eyes.

“Frank,” she shrieked, “oh, Prank
my love, where are you?”

“Doctor,” she bent a terrified look
on Lesterdale, ‘ ‘ I dreamed — I thought
I was Kit Norton’s wife, that I was
the mother of — oh, say it isn’t true.
Doctor.”

“Tiens, what is this?” de Grandin
muttered. “Has she, too, emerged
from a state of suspended memory?”

Lesterdale ’s eyes were cool with
professional unconcern. Like every-
one else in the city he knew the scan-
dal of Betty’s divoi*ce and remar-
riage, and had he been there in any
capacity other than that of physician,
I could well imagine how his glance
would have been blank with cold con-
tempt as he looked at the pretty
woman contorted on the bed.
“Water!” he ordered shortly of the
terrified nurse.

A moment later he dissolved a small
white tablet in the half-filled tumbler
she broxight, plunged the nozzle of his
hypodermic into the mixture and
barked another order. “Alcohol —
sponge — in the case yonder, ’ ’ he
snapped.

The nurse got the alcohol and a
cotton sponge from his kit and
swabbed Betty’s left arm.

The needle pierced the girl’s deli-
cate skin and I saw a blister rise as
the morphia went home before the
syringe-plunger’s pressure.

“See the child has substitute feed-
ings — dextri-maltose, milk and water,
Wilson’s formula No. 2 — can’t have
it nurse with the mother full o’ mor-
phine. Call me if she kicks up another
row. ’ ’ Lesterdale glanced appraising-
ly at Betty, noted the narcotic already
stealing over her, and turned toward
the door. “She ought to be quiet for
the rest of the night,” he added over
his shoulder.

“Oh, hullo, Trowbridge,” he called
as he recognized me by the door.
“What’s up, did they rout you out,
too? Devil of a note, dragging a man
from the bridge table to calm a con-
science-stricken female. What?”

THE BRABSr-THIEP

695

“But do you thiuk it’s just an at-
tack of conscience?” I counter^.
“Mightn’t it be a case of puerperal
insan ”

“No,” he cut in. “Not even lacta-
tional neurosis; no ssnnptom of it.
It’s hysteria, pure and simple, or” —
he smiled acidly — “more simple than
pure, I’d say, considering who’s hav-
ing it. Don’t see how it hapi)ened,
but something’s awakened the little
strumpet’s conscience, and it’s hurt-
ing her like the devil. Good-night,”
he nodded shortly as he passed down
the hall without a backward glance.

^‘Mordieu, he is hard, that one;
hard like a nail,” de Grandin mur-
mured. “A good neurologist he may
be, Friend Trowbridge, but I think he
is also a moniunental fool. Let us
interrogate the garde-malade.”

The nurse recognized me with a
start of surprize as we edged into the
room. “Mr. Norton called at my

ofSce, and ” I began, but she cut

me short.

“Oh, he did, did he?” she returned
sourly. “I should think he would,
after what he’s done. He ”

“Slowly, Mademoiselle, if you
please,” de Grandin urged. “Our per-
ceptions are dull, and you go too fast.
What, precisely, did Monsieur Norton
do?”

The girl stared at him. “What?”
she echoed. “Plenty. He came home
from the office with a beautiful bou-
quet, then pretended he didn’t know
his own wife and baby, and went fly-
ing out of the house like a crazy man.

He drove the poor thing to this ”

she glanced compassionately at Betty.
“He hadn’t been gone half an hour
when she went eompletely to pieces
and started raving like a lunatic ! ’ ’

“Ah?” de Grandin tweaked his
mustache meditatively. “Now we
begin to make progress. What, if you
please, was the exact nature of her
delusion ? ’ ’

The nurse considered a moment.
Years of hospital training had taught
her accurate observation where symp-

toms were concerned, and profession-
al habit was stronger than womanly
anger. “She began crying as though
her heart would break,” she replied
slowly; “then, when he came back
the second time and stared wildly in
the room before rushing off again,
she seemed to change completely. I’ve
never seen anything like it. One mo-
ment she was crying and wringing
her hands, begging Mr. Norton to
recognize her, the next she was like a
different woman. Just for a moment
she stopped crying, and a sort of
dazed, surprized look came into her
eyes; then she looked round the room
as though she’d never seen it before —
like a casualty victim coming out of
the ether in the emergency ward,”
she finished with professional clarity.

“This dazed, bewildered condition
lasted only a moment; then, like a
woman recovering from a faint, she
asked, ‘Where am I?’

‘ ‘ I soothed her as best I could ; told
her Mr. Norton had gone out for a
moment, but would be back directly,
and held the baby out to her. This
seemed to excite her all the more. 1
had to explain where she was, who she
was, and xeho the baby loas — can you
imagine? Instead of calming her, it
seemed to make her worse. She stared
unbelievingly at me, and when I
showed her the baby again, she fell to
screaming at the top of her voice and
calling for somebody named Prank.
Have you any idea who it could be.
Dr. Trowbridge?”

“What else happened?” I re-
turned, evading her question.

“That’s all, sir. I grew alarmed
when she seemed to shrink from her
own chUd, and called Dr. L( terdale.
He’s the best nerve man in town,
don’t you think?”

“Quite,” I ag:^d. “If you ”

“Non, mon ami,” de Grandin intev-
laipted. “Trouble the good mademoi-
selle no more. We have already heard
enough — parhlexi, I fear we have
heard more than we can conveniently
piece together. Come, let us go.

596

WEIRD TALES

** Grand Bieu,** he mumured as we
reached the street, “it is aiding, it
is astonishing, it is bewildering ! Has
the clock of time turned back, and are
we once more in the Seventeenth
Century?”

“Eh?” I asked.

“Is witchcraft rampant in our
midst?” he returned. **Barhe d'un
htmc, my friend, I know not whether
to say we have witnessed two most
extraordinary cases of mental de-
rangement or something wholly and
entirely infernal.”

2

H omer abbot, son of my old school-
mate, Judge Winslow Abbot, and
one of the cleverest of the younger
members of the local bar, was waiting
nervously in my consulting-room next
morning. “It’s about Marjorie,” he
began, almost before we had ex-
change greetings. “I’m dreadfully
worried about her. Doctor!”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting
the parentheses of wrinkles which
worry had etched between his brows.
“Do you want me to run over and
look at her?”

“No, sir; I’m afraid this business
is a little out of your line,” he con-
fessed. “To tell you the truth, I’ve
come to you more as a friend than as
a physician.” He paused a moment,
as though debating whether to con-
tinue; then: “She’s been acting
queerly, recently. About a week ago
she began coming down to breakfast
all crocked up — circles under her eyes,
no more life than a wet handkerchief,
and all that sort of th'ng, you know.
I was concerned at once, and begged
her to come to you, but she just
laughed at me.

“It’s gone from bad to worse, since.
She’s irritable as the deuce — flies off
the handle at nothing, scolds me like
a shrew with or without reason ; most
of the time she seems actually trying
to avoid me, makes every kind of ex-

cuse to keep from coming to the door
with me in the morning, pleads a
headache, or some other indisposition,
to get away from me in the evening,
even ”

“H’m,” I smiled knowingly to my-
self. A happy explanation of Mar-
jorie’s sudden vagaries had occurred
to me, but Homer’s next words killed
it.

“Three nights ago I happened to
wake up about one o’clock,” he hur-
ried on. “You know that feeling of
vague malaise we sometimes have for
no reason at all? That’s what I felt
when I sat up in bed and looked
roimd. Everything was quiet — too
quiet — in the room. I switched on the
night light and looked across at Mar-
jorie’s bed. It was empty.

“I waited and waited. When half
an hour went by with no sign of her,
I couldn’t stand it any more. I looked
everywhere — went through the house
from cellar to attic; she wasn’t any-
where. It wasn’t till I’d finished my
search and returned almost frantic to
the bedroom that I noticed her cloth-
ing was missing from the chair where
she usually puts it; when I went to
the closet I found her heavy sports
coat gone, too.

“ I sat up waiting for her till nearly
five o’clock; finally, I couldn’t stick it
any more, and dropped off to sleep.

“Marjorie was sleeping peacefully
as a child when I woke two hours
later, and when I tried to rou.se her
and ask where she’d been during the
night, she turned from me like a fret-
ful child, too, and mumbled something
about wanting to be let alone.

“I trie<l my best to ask her about
it that evening, but she had a couple
of girl friends in to dinner and we
played contract afterward, so I didn’t
get a word alone with her till after
eleven, when the company left.. Then
she fairly ran upstairs to bed, com-
plaining of a splitting headache, and
each time I tried to speak to her she

THE BRAIN-THIEF

597

begged me lo let her alone to suffer
in peace.

“I don’t think she went out that
night, tut I don’t know.”

“Eh?” I asked, impressed by the
emphasis he laid on the last four
words. ‘ ‘ How d’ye mean ? ’ ’

For answer he thrxist his hand into
his waistcoat pocket and extracted a
tiny square of folded white paper.
“"V^at do you make of this?” he
asked, handing me the ijacket.

I opened the paper, disclosing a
dust of fine, white, crystalline powder,
wet my forefinger, gathered a few
grains of the substance on it, and
touched it to my tongue. “Good
heavens!” I ejaculated.

“Morphine, isn’t it?” he asked.

“No, it is codein,” I I’etumed.
“Where ”

“On her dresser, yesterday morn-
ing,” he cut in. “And there was an-
other like it, -with a few grains of the
stuff still adhering to the paper, on
the pantry shelf. We had coffee with
our refi'eshments the night before,
and I thought mine tasted bitter, but
the others laughed at me, so I thought
maybe the trouble was witli me rather
than the coffee. By the way, Marjorie
brought the coffee in herself that
night, and it wasn’t till I found these
powdei*s that I i-ecalled she brought
mine in separately, the only cup on
the tray — ^no chance for me to take
the wrong one that way, you see.

“I slept like a log that night, and
woke udth a queer, dizzy feeling yes-
terday morning. Marjorie was still
asleep when I was dressed and ready
for breakfast, and it was just by
chance I discovered the powder. You
see, I thought perhaps her headache
was still troubling her, and went to
her dresser for some cologne. That’s
where I found the package I just
showed you. I thought I recognized
it ; they gave me something of the kind
in the hospital at St. Nazaire during
the war.”

“But see here, boy,” I expostu-
lated, “maybe we’re making a moun-
tain of a molehill. This stuff’s codein,
beyond doubt, and Marjorie shouldn’t
be allowed to have it; but it’s possible
some quack gave it her for those head-
aches she’s been complaining of —
mere than one woman’s been made a
dope fiend that way. That feeling of
depression you had on waking ”

“Wasn’t present this morning,” he
interrupted sharply. “I don’t know
how I came to reason it all oiit, but
the moment I found that infernal
stuff I kmw she’d drugged my coffee
the previous night. So I took the
paper and went downstairs and fixed
a dummy pack with table salt, and left
it where I’d found the codein on her
dressei'. It was while I was looking
for salt to make the dummy I found
the empty codein paper in the pantry.

“Dr. Trowbridge,” he leaned for-
ward impressively, “last night, after
dinner, my coffee was salty as brine!”

Young Homer Abbot and I faced
each other a moment in solemn-eyed
silence. I opened my lips to utter
some banality, but he hurried on :

“I pretended to become sleepy
almost immediately, and went to b^
— ^but I didn ’t undress. Marjorie
didn’t trouble even to come upstairs
to see if I had fallen asleep; I sup-
pose she was so sure the dope had
done its work. I heard the front door
close before I’d been in bed half an
hour, and jiunped up, slipped on my
shoes and jacket, and ran after her.
I got down just in time to see her taxi
round the comer, and though I chased
it like a hound hunting a rabbit, it
lost me in the fog, and I had to ^ve
up.

“Marjorie came in a few minutes
after five this morning,” he con-
cluded. Then, because he was still
little more than a boy, and because
his happy little world had tumbled to
pieces before his eyes, Homer Abbot
put his arm down on my desk, pil-

598

^S’EIRD TALES

lowed his face against it and cried
like a heart-broken child.

“Poor chap,” I sjmpathizod. “Poor
boy, it’s a rotten shame, and ”

“And we had best be stirring our-
selves to correct it, mj' friend,” Jules
de Grandin supplemented as he
stepped noiselessly into the room.

“I must ask forgiveness for eaves-
dropping,” he added as he pau.scd be-
side me, “but I caaglit the beginning
of the young monskur's so tragic tale,
and could not forbear to linger till I
heard its end.

“Do not despair, my friend,” he
patted Homer’s bowed shoulder
gently. “All looks hopeless, I know,
but I think there is a reason behind
it all, nor is it what you think.

“Trowbridge, my friend,” he
added, his little eyes snapping with
cold furj', “I damnation think this
business of Monsieur Abbot ’.s and
that of Monsieur Norton are bound
up together somehow. Yes. Certainly
there is someone, or some thing, in
this city which stands in urgent need
of eraication, and T .siiall supply
that need — may Satan fiy me in a pan
with butter and parsnips if I do not
so!”

Again he turned to Homer. “Think.
Monsieur,” he lu'ged, “what hap-
pened before your so cliarming wife
began to show this I'ernarkablo
change? Consider carefully: the
.smallest happening, the stemiuglj'
least important thing; ma}' guide us
to a solution of the ca.se. What, by
example, did you do for several days
Ijefore she manifested the first symp-
tom — even the veiy night before her
indi.si>osition became patent?”

Young Abbot took his chin in his
hand as he bent lii.s thoughts back-
ward. “I can’t recall anything, espe-
cially, tliat happened about that
time,” he answered slowly. “Let’s
see, four of us went to the theater
that Thursday night, and stopped at
a night club afterward. U’m, yes;
something rather qiteer did happen

there. Wc had a little spat, but ”

“Excellent!” de Grandin inter-
jected. “This petite querelle, it was
about what, if you please?”

‘ ‘ Nothing of importance, ’ ’ the other
replied. “There was a queer, bilious-
looking fellow sitting alone at a table
across fi’om us, and he kept looking
at Marjorie. I didn’t notice him at
first, but at last he got on my nerves,
and I I'ose to speak to him. Marjorie
begged me not to make a scene, and
the fellow left a few minutes after-
ward — damn him, I’d have wrung
his neck, if I ’d caught him ! ” he ended
savagdy.

“Indeed, and for why?” de Gran-
din asked softly.

“Just before he left the room he
turned and held up a little mirror, or
some small, round, bright object, and
flashed a ray from it directly into
Marjorie’s eyes. I made a dash for
him, but he’d gone before I could
reach the door.”

“U’m,” de Grandin murmured to
himself. “That is of importance,
also.” He nodde<l once or rtvice
thoughtfully; then: “And Madame,
your wife, she said what?” he asked.

“She fussed at me!” Homer re-
turned in an injured voice. “De-
clared I’d made a disgi’aceful scene
and humiliated her, and all that kind
of thing. Next morning she slept late,
and was as exhausted as though she’d
just risen from a sickbed when she
finally got up.”

Jules de Grandin studied the end of
his cigarette with slow, thoughtful
care. At la.st, “It i.s fantastic,” he
murmured, “hut I damn fear it is so,
none the less.

“Vciy good, Monsieur,” he turned
again to Abbot, “you A^•il] oblige iis
by acting as though nothing untoward
has occurred at your house. I esper
cially desire that you do not let Ma-
dame suspect you have discovered her
attempts to drag you. Anon. I think,
we shall unravel this .sorry tangle for
you, but it may take time.”

THE BRAIN-THIEF

599

3

N ora mcgin'xis, my genial house-
hold factotum, laid a sheaf of let-
ters beside my plate when de Glrandin
and I repaired to the breakfast room
half an hour later.

“Hullo,” I I’emarked, “here’s one
for Kit Norton. Wonder how anyone
Icnew he’s stopping here?”

“I mentioned it to the nurse before
we left his hoixse last night, ’ ’ de Gran-
din replied. “Open the letter, if you
please. IMonsieur Norton sleeps late
this morning, I made sure he should.
Meantime, the note may contain some-
thing which will prove helpful to us. ’ ’
I slit the envelope and read ;

“Kit:

“They tell me Frank divorced me because
of you and Isabel divorced you on my ac-
count. They say we’ve been married two
years and the baby’s ours. I can’t under-
stand it all; and I shan’t try. I’m taking
the baby with me. It’s best.

“Yours,

“Betty.”

“Good heavens!” I exclaimed.
“What can tliis mean?”

“Mean?” de Grandin was on his
feet, his little eyes blazing like those
of a suddenly incensed cat. “Mean?
Mort d’un rat, it means murder; no
less, my friend! Come, quick, when
was that letter mailed?”

“It’s postmarked 12:40,” I re-
turned. “Must have been dropped
about midnight last night.”

“Hllas — too late!” he cried.
“Come, prove that my fears are all
too well grounded', Friend Trow-
bridge I ’ ’

Grasping my hand he fairly
dragged me to the study, where he
motioned me to take up the telephone.
Next instant he rushed to the con-
sulting-room extension and called
Main 926.

“Alio?” he cried when the connec-
tion was put through.

“City Mortuary,” was the curt re-
turn. “Who’s speaking?”

“You have there the bodies of a
yoimg woman and an infant girl —

Madame Norton and her child?” de
Grandin affirmed, rather than asked.

“Gawd A ’mighty, how’d you
know? Who is this?” came the
startled reply.

“Have the goodness to answer, if
you please,” the Frenchman insisted.

“Yeah, we’ve got ’em. Th’ police
boat fished ’em outa th’ river less’n
half an hour ago. AVho th’ hell is
this?”

“One ■who can prove she destroyed
herself while of unsoimd mind,” de
Grandin returned as he hung up the
receiver.

“You see?” he asked as he re-
entered the study.

“No, I’m hanged if I do!” I shot
back. All I understood was that
Betty Norton had drowned herself
and her baby.

“We shall avenge her ; have no fear
on that score, i7ion vieux,” de Grandin
promised in a low, accentless voice.
“The swine responsible for this shall
die, and die most unpleasantly^ or may
Jules de Grandin never agam taste
roast gosling and burgundy. I swear
it!”

4

J ULES DE GRANDIN to.ssed aside the
copy of r Illustration he had been
perusing since dinner and glanced at
the diminutive watch strapped to his
wrist. ‘ ‘ It is time we were going, my
friend,” he informed me. “Be sure
to dress warmly; the March -wind is
sharp as a scolding woman’s tongue
tonight.”

‘ ‘ Going ? ” I echoed. ‘ ‘ Where ’ ’

“To Monsieur Abbot’s, of course,”
he returned. “I determined it this
moniing.”

“You what?” I demanded. “Well,

of all the brass-bound nerve ” I

began, but Kit Norton interrupted me.
“May I come, too, sir?” he asked.
“Assuredly,” the Frenchman
nodded. “I think you may find inter-
est in that which -we shall midoubt-
lessly see tonight, young Monsieur.”

600

WEIRD TALES

Ortunbling, but curious, I hustled
into a corduroy hunting-outfit, high
laced boots and a leather wind-
breaker. Similarly arrayed, de Gran-
din and Norton joined me in the hall,
and, at the Frenchman’s suggestion,
we hailed a taxicab and rode to within
a block of Abbot’s house, then walked
the remainder of our journey.

It was cold work, waiting in the
shadow of the hedge skirting Homer ’s
front lawn, and I was in momentary
dread of being seen by a passing
policeman and arrested as a suspicious
character, but our vigil was at last cut
short by de Grandin’s soft exclama-
tion. Attcndez-vous, mes amis, you
recognize her?”

I peered through the wall of wind-
shaken hedge in time to see a svelte
figure, muffled from chin to heels in
fur, glide swiftly down the steps and
pause irresolutely at the curb. “Yes,”
I nodded, “it’s Marjorie Abbot,
but ”

“Tres hon, it is enough,” de Gran-
din cut in, turning to flash the light
of his pocket electric torch toward the
comer where our taxi loitered.

The vehicle drove slowly toward us,
passed by and slowed down at the
curb where Marjorie stood. “Cab,
lady?” hailed the chauffeur. The girl
nodded, and a moment later we saw
the red eye of the vehicle’s tail light
blink mockingly at us as it rounded
the comer.

“Well,” I exclaimed, “of all the
treacherous' tricks? That scoundrel
deliberately pa.s8ed us by after you’d
signaled him, and ”

“And did precisely as he was in-
stracted,” de Grandin supplied with
a chuckle. “Trowbridge, my friend,
you are a peerless pill-dispenser, but
you are s^ly lacking in subtlety.
Consider: Do we wish to advertise
our presence to' Madame Marjorie?
Decidedly not. What then? If our
cab remained in plain sight, Madame
Marjorie could not well fail to see it,
and would unquestionably think it

queer if it did not apply for her
patronage. Had she been forced to
seek another vehicle, she would have
been on her guard, and looked con-
stantly behind to see if she were fol-
lowed. In such conditions, we should
have had Satan’s own time to mark
her destination without being dis-
covered. As it is, our so excellent
driver conveys her where she desires
to go, returns for us, and makes the
trip over again. Yoila, c^cst ires sim-
ple, n’est-ce-pas?*’

“Umph.” I admitted grudgingly.
“What’s next?”

“To warn Monsieur Abbot of our
advent, ’ ’ he returned. ‘ ‘ He awaits us ;
I have told him to be prepared.”

We crossed the yard and rang
Abbot’s bell, but no response came to
our summons. Despairing of making
the bell heard, de Grandin hammered
on the door ; still no answer.

“Eh hien, can he have fallen asleep
in good earnest ? ’ ’ the Frenchman
fumed. “Let us go in to him.”

The door was unlatched and we had
no difficulty entering, but though we
called repeatedly, no answer came to
our hails. At length; “Upstairs, my
friends, ’ ’ the Frenchman ordered.
“Our plans seem to have miscarried,
but I will not have it so.”

Wrapped to the chin in blankets,
but fully clothed save for shoes and
jacket, Homer Abbot lay in his bed,
his head tilted grotesquely to one side,
his heavy respiration proclaiming the
deepness of his slumber.

“Wake, my friend, rouse up, we
are come!” de Grandin cried, seizing
the sleeper’s shoulder and giving it
a vigorous shake.

Young Abbot’s head rolled flaccidly
from side to side, but no sign of con-
sciousness did he give.

Once more de Grandin shook him,
then, “By damn, you luill wake,
though I kill you in the process?” he
declared, shoving the sleeper so fierce-
ly that he tumbled from the bed, his
limbs sprawling xmcouthly, like the

THE BRAIN-THrEP

601

arms and legs of a rag-doll from
which the sawdust had bwn drained.

*‘Gi'and Dieu, observe!” the little
Frenchman ordered, pointing dra-
matically to a tiny spot of red upon
the upper part of Homer’s shirt
sleeve.

“Hypo!” I commented as I saw
the telltale stain.

“Bien oui, drugs given by mouth
failing, she has made use of injec-
tions,” dc Grandin agreed excitedly.
“Quick, Friend Tro'v^ridge, time is
priceless; to the nearest pharmacy
for strychnia and a syringe, if you
please. We rfiall rouse him to accom-
pany us despite all their planning!”

I hurried on my errand till my
breath came pantingly, returned with
the stimulant in less time than I
should have thought possible, and pre-
pared an injection. The powerful
medicine acted swiftly, and Homer’s
lids fluttered upward almost before
I could withdraw tlie needle.

“How now, my friend, were you
caught napping?” de Grandin asked.

“Looks tiiat way,” the other an-
swered. “I turned in as you sug-
gested, and pretended to be sound
asleep, but she must have suspected
something. Shortly after I went to
bed she came in, bent over me and
called softly. I didn’t answer, of
course, but my lids must have
quivered, the way they usually do
when someone looks intently at you,
for she bent still closer and hissed me.
Just as her lips touched mine I felt a
sting in my arm, and before I could
let out a yell, I was dead to the
world.”

“Exactly, precisely, quite so,” the
Frenchman agreed. “Now, let us de-
part. Our taxicab has returned.”

“Sure, I can go there again,” the
chauffeur answered de Grandin ’s
excited query. “Th' place is out th’
Andover Road about five miles — de-
serted as hell on Sunday afternoon,
too ; you couldn’t miss it, once you’ve
been there.”

**Tres bien; <Mez-vous-ent**
“Huh?”

“Let us go, let us hasten, let us fly,
my excellent one, my prince of chauf-
feurs; time presses and there is five
dollars extra for you if you make’
speed.”

“Buddy, just you set back an’ hold
onto your hair,” the driver cautioned.
“Watch me earn that five-spot ! ’ ’

He did. At a wholly imlawful
speed we raced along the wide, smooth
turnpike, passing an occasional inter-
urban bus and one or two bootleggers’
ears, cityward bound with their loads
of conviviality, but encountering no
other traffic.

T he house was rather small, of
frame construction, and badly in
need of repainting. Surrounding it
was a rickety paling fence, and a
yard of considerable extent, densely
overgrown with lilac trees, dwarf
cedars and a few straggling rhodo-
dendrons, Apparently no light
burned inside, but de Grandin mo-
tioned us forward while he stayed to
pay the chauffeur.

“Discretion is essential, my
friends,” he cautioned as he joined
us. “Let us proceed with caution.”
Thereupon we dropped behind each
shadowing bush and advanced by a
series of short, quick dashes, like
infantrymen at skirmish practise.

Slowly we circled the house, at
length descried a single feeble ray of
light flickering from beneath a drawn
blind and tight-barred shutters. The
Frenchman glued his eye to the chink
whence the light emanated, then drew
back with a shrug of impatience. “I
can see nothing,” he admitted de-
jectedly.

We looked at each other in helpless
discomfiture, but in a moment the
little man was grinning deli^tediy,
“Messieurs Norton — Abbot,” he de-
manded in a whisper, “can you emu-
late a cat? — ^two cats? — ^several cats?”

602

WEIRD TALES

“A catf” the youngsters choriised
in amazement.

“But certainly. A pussy-cat, a
kitty,” de Grandin agreed. “Can you
caterwaul and meaul like a duet of
tom-cats enjoying a quaiTel?”

“Certainly,” Abbot returned,
“but ”

“There are no buts, my friend. Do
you and Monsieur Norton repair to
yonder lilac bush, and thereupon set
up such a din as might make a dead
man leave his coffin in search of peace
elsewhere. Continue your concert a
full two minutes, then fling a stone
into a distant thicket, to simulate
the crasliing of departing felines
through the undergrowth. Remain
utterly quiet for two minutes more,
then join me as soundlessly as may
be. You imdei’stand? Verj’- well; be
off!”

Grinning broadly. Abbot and Nor-
ton departed to a screen of lilac
bushes, and in a moment there rose
such a racket of howls, caterwauls
and \dcious hisses as might have con-
vinced anj'one that two lusty tom-cats
had staged a finish-fight on the lawn.

I rocked with laughter at the ex-
hibition, but my mirth was swallowed
in admiration of de Grandmas strat-
egy as I watched him. From under
his leather jacket he drew a long,
curve-bladed Senegalese knife and fell
to cutting the shutter-slats away. As
he worked he thimst a stick of chew-
ing-gum between his teeth and began
masticating furiously. The razor-sharp
steel sheared through the rotten,
worm-eaten wood almost as if it had
been cheese, and in a moment an open-
ing six inches wide by two high had
been made. Cutting a slat from the
other shutter barring the window, he
laid the wooden cleats on the frosty
lavvTi, then slipped the great pigeon ’s-
blood niby from his finger and
pressed it against the window-pane.

The stone cut through the glass
almost as easily as the knife had
hacked the wood, and in a moment a

small circular opening was chopped
from the pane. Just before the circle
was complete, the Frenchman took the
gum from his mouth, flattened it
against the glass and thrust his finger-
tip into it. Then, cutting the re-
mainder of the circle with the inby,
he nonchalantly lifted out a disk of
glass without a single betraying
tinkle having sounded.

Shutters and window having been
drilled through, he proceeded to make
a small incision in the linen window-
blind with the tip of his knife, there-
by making it possible for us to see
and hear all which w^ent on inside
the lighted room.

A final burst of feline profanity
and a crashing in the bushes by the
fence apprised the world that one of
the struggling cats had quit the field
of honor hotly pursued by his vic-
torious rival, and in another moment
Abbot and Norton joined us.

With upraised finger de Grandin
enjoined silence, then waved us for-
ward to the observation-slits he had
cut.

W E VIEWED the scene within as
though looking through the peep-
hole of a camera obscura. An old-
fashioned cannon stove, heaped almost
to overflowing with glowing coal,
stood in the center of the room, and
from the ceiling swung an oil lamp
by one of those complicated pulley
arrangements once common to every
rural dining-room. In a rather tat-
tered easy-chair lounged a tall, spare
man of indeterminate age, a long,
cord-belted dressing-gown of paisley
w'eave covering his dinner clothes. His
skin was sallow with a sallowness that
was more than mere pallor, there was
a distinctly yellowish cast to it, like
new country butter ; close-cropped
hair of raven blackiiess crowned his
head as closely as a skull-cap, growing
well downi over his broad, low brow
and seeming to lend an intensity to
the burning, searching eyes which

THE BRAIN-THIEP

603

glowed like twin pools of black ink in
the immobile yellow mask of his face.
Slim black brows spanned his fore-
head and met, forming a sharp down-
ward angle above the bridge of his
thin, narrow-nostriled nose. There was
neither amusement nor hate nor any
other sign of emotion on his mask-like
face, only intense, implacable con-
centration, as he bent his changeless
stare on the woman standing rigid as
though frozen against the wall oppo-
site him.

“ take them off — all!” he was

saying in a low, sibilant voice as we
pressSi our eyes to the peep-hole.
Evidently we arrived in the midst of
a conversation, or, rather, a monolog,
for the woman was mute as she was
motionless.

“Marjorie!” Homer Abbot ex-
claimed softly as he recognized his
wife rigid against the wall. Then :

“That’s the man who tried to flirt
with her at the supper club the ”

“And that’s the man Isabel and I
saw at the theater the other night — I
mean before I lost my memory,” Kit
Norton cut in. “We were coming
from the theater and I jostled him
when he deliberately got in my way to
peer into Isabel’s face. He looked at
me as though he’d have liked to mur-
der me, but all he did was raise his
hand and flash a big, bright ring
before my eyes. It dazzled me for a
moment, and when I reached out to
grab him by the collar, he was gone.
He must have ”

“Silence!” de Grandin’s sharp
whisper cut short his recital. The
seated, yellow-faced man was spealc-
ing again.

“At once!” he commanded in the
same level, toneless voice, and I
noticed that his tliin lips scarcely
moved as he spoke.

The woman by the wall trembled
as though with a sudden chill, but
her hands rose flutteringly to her
thi’oat, undid’ tlie clasp of her long
fur cloak and threw it back from her

dioulders. “All!” the man repeated
tonelessly, inexorably.

Quickly, mechanically, ^e unloosed
the fastenings of her costume. In a
moment she was done and stood fac-
ing him, still and strmght as a statue
carved in ivory, arrayed only in the
beauty with which generations of New
Jersey forebears had endowed her.

“You are slightly rebellious,” the
seated man remarked. “We must
cure that. Wake!”

Marjorie Abbot started as though a
cup of chilled water had been d^ied
in her face, saw her crumpled gar-
ments on the floor at her feet, and
made a wild, ineffectual clutch at the
topmost wisp of silk on the pile of
clothing.

“StiU!” The girl straightened like
a puppet stretched upright by a
spring, but a tortured cry burst :^m
her, even as she stiffened into im-
mobility.

It was a pitiful, bleating cry which
wrung my heart. Once, when I was a
little boy, I spent a season on an
uncle’s farm and was given a lamb
for pet. All summer I loved' and
pampered the little, woolly thing till
it became tame and friendly as a
house-dog. At autumn came slaughter-
ing-time, and with the unsentimental
practicality of country folk they gave
my pet to the itinerant butcher who
came to do the Idlling. Never shall I
forget the startled, reproachful cry of
that lamb as, his confidence and gentle
friendliness betrayed, he felt the
gleaming knife cross his throat. It
was such a cry of helpless terror and
despair Marjorie Abbot gave. But it
was not repeated.

“Quiet!” commanded the yellow-
faced man. “Be motionless, be speech-
less, but retain full consciousness. At
my unspoken command you have left
your silly hu^and and come to me;
you have exposed your body to my
eyes when I ordered it, though your
strongest instincts forbade it. Here-
after you obey my slightest thou^t ;

604

WEIRD TALES

you have neither volition nor will of
your own when I command otherwise.
You will know what you do, and
realize that you act against your de-
ares, but you will be powerless to
explain by word or act. You will ap-
parently wilfully and wantonly drag
your husband’s name and your own
through scandal after scandal; you
will use your charm to allure, but
never will j'ou make return for what
you receive ; you will be pitiless, heart-
less, passionless, a woman taking all,
giving nothing, living only to create
misery and heartbreak for all with
whom you come in contact. You
understand ? ’ ’

Only the "vvide, terror-stricken stare
of the motionless, nude girl’s eyes re-
plied, but the answer was eloquent.

“Do not think I can not do this —
that your love for your husband can
witWand my power,” the man went
on. “I caused the break between the
fool Norton and his wife ; it was I who
made the Baintree girl desert her hus-
band and create a scandal with Nor-
ton. But they knew nothing of what
they did — I commanded their memo-
ries to sleep, and they slept. Last
night I wakened Norton — ^how the fool
must have squirmed when he saw a
strange woman in his home, and
learned all which had happened while
I kept his memory locked in the secret
chamber of my mind! Last night I
released my hold upon his wife, too, so
that both awakened in a strange
world, separated from the mates they
loved, despised by all who knew them ;
found themselves parents of a cMld'
whose very existence they had not sus-
pected till I released them from my
spell. I think we shall find amusement
watching their efforts to adjust them-
selves.” For the first time his tliin,
pale lips curved in a snarling smile.

“You wonder why I did this to
them — ^why I do it to you?” he de-
manded, “Because I hate them, hate
you — hate every hypocritical member
of your two-faced race ! In my coun-

try white men talk morality and
honor, then take our women when
they feel inclined ; abandon them
when they wish. In India I could do
nothing; the English pigs prevented
it. But in France I found' a welcome
— they drew no color line there, but
i*eceived me as a great artist. Ha —
the Frenchmen proved almost as
stupid as your Americans, but not
quite ; no nation in the world is com-
posed of such utter fools as you ! You
welcomed me as a refugee from Brit-
ish oppression; I am free to -work my
will here. Your dull Western minds
are malleable as wax to my superior
will I who can make multitudes be-
lieve they see me cast my rope into
the sky, then climb it to the clouds,
find the subjection of your wills to
mine less than child’s play.

“Who am I?” he broke off with
sudden sharpness, staring intently at
her. “Answer!”

“My lord and my master,” she fal-
tered.

“And who are you?”

“Your thing and creature, your
less than slave, your chattel, to do
with as you will, my loi’d.”

“What is your wish?”

“I have no wish, no will, no desire,
no mind, save to do as you command,
O lord and ruler of my existence,”
she answered, slipping to her knees,
laying her hands palm-upward on the
fioor, then bending forward and beat-
ing her smooth forehead softly on the
rug between them.

“It is well. Resume your clothing
and your duties, O monstrous un-
couthness. Remember, from this time
forward you know neither truth nor
honor nor virtue nor fair dealing, save
to make mock of them. It is under-
stood?”

“It is understood, master.” Again
she struck her brow against the floor
between her supplicatingly out-
stretched' hands.

“Like hell it is!” With a mad-
dened roar Homer Abbot sma^ed

THE BRAIN-THIEF

605

through the rotting shutters, crashed
the window-panes to a hundred frag-
ments and hurled himself into the
superheated room. “You damned
ape-faced swine,” he shouted, “you
might have broken Kit Norton ’s home
and made his name a byword all over
town, but you don’t do it to me !”

He lunged frantically at the slender
form reclining in the shabby arm-
chair. Unconcerned as though there
had been no interruption, his wife
proceeded with the process of don-
ning her flimsy silk undergarments.

“Ah? We have a caller, it seems,”
the seated man remarked pleasantly.
He made no move to defend himself,
but his sable, deep-set eyes narrowed!
to mere specks of shining black flame
as he focused them on the intruder.

Homer Abbot stopped stone-still in
mid-stride as though he had run into
an invisible wall of steel. A dazed,
half-puzzled, half-frightened look
came to his face as he bent every
ounce of energy toward advancing,
j’Ct remained fixed as a thing carved
of stone.

“You are right, my dear sir,” the
yellow-faced one pursued; “I shall
not make your name a scandal in the
toMTi — not in the sense you mean, at
any rate. But concerning your wife’s
name — ah, that is something different.
I shall kill you and command her to
remain here with your body till the
police arrive. She will know how yoii
died, but she will not tell. Oh, no;
she wll not tell, for I shall forbid
her, and you yourself have heard her
acknowledge my authority.”

He laughed soundlessly as he drew
an automatic pistol from the pocket
of his dressing-gown. It was one of
those German monstrosities of mur-
derousness, built like a miniature
machine-gun, which sprays ten bul-
lets from its muzzle at a single pres-
sure of the trigger.

Slowly, seeming to delight in the
delay, he raised the weapon till it
covered Abbot’s heart, then;

“Have you prayed; are you pre-
pared to meet the White Man’s (^d,
all-conquering white man, who is so
weak before the command!s of my
will?” he asked. “If so, I shall ”

“Chapeau d’un cochon, you shall do
nothing, and damnably little of it!”
Jules de Grandin shouted as he
launched himself through the broken
window.

The distance between them was
quite eight feet, but the French-
man cleared it with the lightning
speed of a famislied cat leaping on an
unwary bird. Before the seated man
could deflect his aim from Homer
Abbot, de Grandin was beside him
and the lamplight glittered on the
wide, curved blade of his great knife
as he sming it downward saberwise.

Through coat sleeve and shirt
sleeve, through flesh and bone and
sinew, the keen steel cut, severing the
man’s arm midway between carpus
and elbow as neatly as a surgical
operation might have done.

The hand fell to the carpeted
floor with a thud, the fingers clench-
ing in muscular spasm, and the pistol,
clutched in the severed fist, sputtered
a fusillade of futile shots like a bunch
of firecrackers set off together.

As a spilth of ruby blood spurted
from his severed radial and brachial
arteries, a look of stupefaction, of in-
credulous wonderment, replaced the
grimace of tigerish fury which had
been on the yellow-skinned one’s face.
For a moment he regarded the bleed-
ing stump and the small, almost
femininely dainty hand lying on the
floor with confounded astonishment;
then his surprize seemed swallowed
up in mad, unreasoning terror. In tin-
twinkling of an eye he -was changed
from the calm, sinister personifica-
tion of the inscrutable East to a
groveling thing — a member of an in-
ferior, dominated race trembling and
defenseless before the resistless pur-
( Continued on page 709)

OBT NORUS, Chairman of
the Council of Suns!”

As my name rang forth,
I was stepping up onto the great
dais at the center of the Hall of
Suns. The roar of dissimilar voices
that had filled that hall a moment
before died instantly, and from all
606

the thousands of differing forms
gathered here in the great Council
of Suns of which I was head there
came no sound. Great plant-men of
CapeUa. strange faceless hairy be-
ings from Mizar, big, green-bodied
amphibians from Aldebaran — ^these
and all the countless other unlike

forms abont them were silent in that
moment as I stood upon the dais,
facing them. And as silent were the
two great forms that stood behind
me; J’han Jal, Chief of the Interstel-
lar Patrol, of the bird-like races of

Sirius, his tall body covered with
short feathers, his arms and legs end-
ing in great talons, with a great
beak between his two dark keen
eyes ; and Mirk En, Chief of the Sci-
ence Bureau, a big octopus-bodied

607

608

WEIRD TALES

Vegan, his round, single-eyed body-
mass the center of his nine great
tentacle-limbs.

But though all these stood silent
in that moment, there came through
the hall’s tall windows an unceasing
roar of tumultuous activity from out-
side. Through those windows I could
look out acro.ss the tumult, across
the distant strange black cities
towering into the brilliant Avhite
light of great Canopus overhead.
.Amd in their streets, I could see,
swarmed great-headed and bodiless
Canopans, their thin, piping voices
coming to my ears in a dull roar.
Over those shouting, wildly swirling
throngs there soared countless great
ships, darting up and out from Cano-
pus into space or slanting down out
of space toward the great sun’s
worlds. Only a moment I gazed out
over that mighty tumult, and then
turned back to the members of the
great Council, who stood in silence
before me.

“Members of the Council,” I ad-
dressed them, “each one of you
knows what peril to our galaxy it is
that has gathered you all here. Each
one of you knows what tremendous
panic has gripped all the galaxy’s
suns and worlds. Each of you knows,
in short, what terrible doom is even
at this moment destroying our uni-
verse!”

They were silent before me as I
paused, listening to me in an utter
tension of body and spirit, while
from outside there eame still the dis-
tant roar of the panic-driven crowds.
Then I was speaking on.

“Our galaxy, our universe, con-
sists as you all know of thousands of
suns, great and small, gathered to-
gether in a roughly disk-shaped mass,
floating here in infinite space. Upon
the worlds of almost all these suns
exist our races, races of dissimilar
beings who yet eombined long ago
into our great Federation of Suns,
with its capital here at Canopus, the
mightiest and most central of all the

galaxy’s suns. For eons our ships
have plied the ways of our imiverse
from sun to sun; for eons the cruis-
ers of our mighty Interstellar Patrol
have watched and warded the ways
between those suns. Banded thus
into this mighty Federation, indeed;
our races, our suns, have come to be
more and more dependent upon each
other for continued existence. And
now that great Federation of Suns,
our great galaxy itself, is being
broken up, destroyed !

“It was but two days ago that the
first warning of the thing eame to us.
Great Deneb, at the galaxy’s edge,
was beginning, its astronomers re-
ported, to move outward into space
with ever-increasing speed! Deneb,
like almost all our suns, had moved
always through space yet had kept
always inside the galaxy’s mass, just
as countless bees can each be moving
yet can hold together steadily in a
compact swarm. But now, it was
clear, Deneb was doing what never a
smi in our universe had done before,
was leaving that universe, was mov-
ing out from the galaxy!

“Hardly had that astounding news
been received by us, indeed, when
there came from Spica, far around
the galaxy’s edge from Deneb, the
same startling news. Spica also, its
astronomers flashed word, was mov-
ing outward into the void of space.
And .swiftly from other of the outer-
most and inner suns, from Rigel and
Mira and Betelgeuse and Altair,
eame the same amazing news, that
they also were beginning to move
outward, to separate! Report after
swift report we received in the next
hours, from the astronomers of sun
after .sun, from Sirius and Algol and
Saiph and Arcturus and Procyon,
from myriads upon myriads of
others. Until by now it is known defi-
nitely that practically every sun in
the galaxy, save great Canopus
which lies motionless here at the
galaxy’s center, is moving away
from its swarming fellow-suns.; that

THE SUN PEOPLE

the galaxy’s great swarm of stars is
up as its stars move away
in all dkectaons!

^‘But what caused this outward
movement of aB the galaxy’s suns?
That is what we sou^t first to learn,
since it might be that this movement
was but a temporary phenomenon.
You know that the galaxy’s suns
have been held together by their
gravitational attraction toward each
olher. It is that attraction of sun for
sun that has held them always in the
galaxy’s disk-like mass, regardless
of their own movements, in the same
way that chips floating in water will
ga&er in a mass despite their own
movements. If that gravitational at-
traction between the galaxy’s suns
did not exist, they would no longer
be held together, the swarm wo^d
disintegrate; since besides their
movements the unopposed light-pres-
sure of one sun upon another would
cause them to spread out in all di-
rections. If that gravitational at-
traction between the suns of the gal-
axj" did not exist, that was what
would happen, we knew, and since
that was happening, we knew that in
some way the gravitational attrac-
tion had been nullified.

“That, indeed, was what our Sci-
ence Bureau soon found to be the
case. They found that there were
radiating out through our galaxy
unceasing Aubrations of immense
force ■which were destrojdng the gravi-
tational pull of our suns upon each
other. You know that long ago we
found gra'vitational attraction to be a
■vibratoiy force, whose wave-lengtli or
frequency depends upon the size of
the gravitational body. Thus gra'vi-
■tation, like any other \'ibratory force,
can be destroyed by opposing to its
vibrations other dampening vibra-
tions of equal wave-length and " fre-
quency. And that, we found, is what
this strange force, this strange vibra-
tion radiating ottt tlrrough our gal-
axy, is doing: it is amrihilating the
ptdl of our great suns upon each

fi09

other. The gravitatitmal force of th«r
worlds is so mudi lower in frequency
by reason of their far mnaller si*e
that it is -unaffected by -the strange
vibrations which are destroying the
attraction of our suns for each other.
Thus the worlds of each sun clmg to
that sun by their own attraction for
it, move with that sun still, but the
suns themselves no longer attract eadi
other and thus are spreading outward
from the galaxy in all directions.

“And that outward movement
marks th. end of our galaxy’s mighty
swarm of suns. Already its coimtless
stars are spreading outward, farther
and farther from each other, in all di-
rections. Slowly now they are moving
outward, but ever faster, and -within
twenty hours more, we have calcu-
lated, the great outer suns -will be so
far out that even were tliis destroy-
ing vibration removed and the attrac-
tion of our suns for each other re-
stored, it would be too late to draw
them back into the galaxy’s swarm.
Outward — outward — all are moving
outward save great Canopus here at
the center, which soon will be left
alone in space where once floated the
great universe of which it was capi-
tal. For by then each of the great
suns of that universe will be pursuing
its own way into the great void, separ
rated for all time from its fellow-suns
of our galaxy, and that it is that has
sent blind terror rolling across all the
peoples of our suns and worlds. For
it means the end forever of our
mighty Federation of Suns, the end
forever of our galaxy, our universe!”

I PAUSED for a moment, and a death-
lilm silence greeted me, a silence
more terrible than any shout of fear.
And I saw that all eyes were upon me
in an utter tenseness of fear and hope.

“We of the Council of Suns have
gathered here to stand against that
doom even now while it separates for-
ever our swarming suns. Wlience is
coming that great radiating vibration
that is breaking up our universe^

610

WEIRD TALES

That is the question that we sought
first to solve. Working unceasingly
on that question in the first hours af-
ter the alarm, our scientists strove to
locate the source of those vibrations,
using directional-ray apparatus to
test them from a score of different
suns. By charting and combining
their findings, they have managed to
locate the source of those great vibra-
tions. And that source, they found,
lies at the very center of the galaxy’s
mightiest and most central sun, lies
at the center of great Canopus ! From
far within Canopus’ fires are coming
these ^^brations that are wrecking our
galaxy. The fact is bej’ond dispute.
Whether these are being loosed, as
our scientists think, by some chance
combination of atomic forces at Cano-
pus’ heart, or whether they are loosed
from some other source, it is certain
that it is from the great sun’s center
that those vibrations are coming. And
BO, to save our universe, there is but
one thing that must be done, that can
be done. And that is to penetrate
idown to Canopus’ center and destroy
if possible whatever great centers of
atomic force have formed there that
are loosing these radiating vibrations
that are destroying our galaxy !

“To penetrate down to Canopus’
center ! That may seem to you impos-
sible, insane, to penetiate through the
awful w’hite fires of the galaxy’s
greatest smi, that titanic ball of fire
whose terrific heat is such as to break
up the atomic structures of even the
gases of w-hich it is composed, whose
radiated heat alone warms scores of
circling worlds. To penetrate to the
great sun’s center — what cruiser, you
will say, could do it? We have heat-
resistant cruisers, indeed, cruisers
that can resist high temperatures, can
dare the glowing nebul®, but these
would be annihilated instantly in the
gigantic sun’s terrific temperatures.
Yet down into the heart of Canopus
a cruiser must go if the galaxy is to
be saved! And knowing that, the
Chief of the Science Bureau has in

the last two days turned all its ener-
gies upon the equipment of such a
cruiser, and has succeeded but now in
equipping one of the cruisers of the
Interstellar Patrol to enable it to
plvmge unharmed into the great sun’s
boiling fires!

“In that cruiser has been set a
mechanism which radiates vibrations
tuned to meet and destroy the vibra-
tions of radiant heat for a consider-
able distance around the ship. Great
projectors have also been set in rows
along the cruiser’s sides and at its
stem and stem, projectors which when
turned on will project broad fan-like
rays, the matter-destroying rays used
as weapons by the Interstellar Patrol.
Now when this cruiser plimges toward
great Canopus it will turn on both the
projectors and the generator of the
heat-destroying vibrations, which will
keep any smallest degree of the
mighty sun’s awful heat from ever
reaching the cruiser. And when the
cruiser plunges into the boiling seas
of flaming gases, the matter-destroy-
ing I’ays from the projectors will keep
all those gases from ever touching the
craiser,

“With that vacuum-sheath created
by the projectors about it, the cruiser
can plunge into the mighty sun’s fires
without being ever touched by its
flaming gases. And the terrific, un-
thinkable heat can not harm it, can
not even reach it, since the vibrations
of that radiant heat will be damp-
ened, nullified, destroyed all around it
by the opposing vibrations from the
generator inside the ship. Thus this
cruiser can plunge into Canopus’
fires and can, unless it encounters
perils of which we know nothing,
make its way to the center of the great
sun, to those regions of atomic force
which have formed there and are ap-
parently loosing these gravity-destroy-
ing vibrations outward upon our uni-
verse. With its great matter-destroy-
ing rays this cruiser can, if it finds
them, break up and destroy these cen-
ters or regions of atomic force, and

THE SUN PEOPLE

611

so save our galaxy from destruction.

“But one cruiser we have that can
do that, and in that cruiser J’han Jal
and Mirk En and I are starting
toward the great sun at once. We
three — the Chairman of the Council
of Suns, the Chief of the Interstellar
Patrol, and the Chief of the Science
Bureau — ^we three are going in this
great hour of peril to penetrate into
great Canopus’ fires and if possible
destroy whatever source there is loos-
ing these vibrations of doom upon us.
For unless the attraction of our gal-
axy’s suns toward each other is re-
stored within twenty hours its outer-
most suns will have moved too far
away to be ever pulled backward into
its swarm. So that it is only by find-
ing the source of those vibrations at
the heart of great Canopus and by
stopping their radiation outward that
we have any last chance of lifting this
doom that even now is disintegrating
our univ'erse ! ’ ’

2

“^ANOPUs’ edge will be before us in

^ minutes!” J’han Jal said, turn-
ing toward me. “Already we are well
inside the corona.”

I nodded. “Hold straight ahead at
the same speed,” I told him. “We’ll
turn on our protective generator and
projectors in a moment.”

J’han Jal’s talon-hands held the
cruiser’s controls steady at my words,
keeping it racing straight forward.
Though the Chief of the Interstellar
Patrol, he himself had stood at those
controls from the start of our cruiser
from the Hall of Suns an hour before,
knowing as we all did what mighty
destinies hung upon this single cruis-
er of ours. Now, as he stood there
gazing ahead through the little con-
trol room’s great windows. Mirk En
end I stood to right and left of him.
Silent now, in a silence that reigned
complete in the control room save for
the never-ceasing throb of the great
mechanisms beneath whose" propul-

sion-vibrations our cruiser flung on
through space, and the strange half-
heard voices of the crew busy about
those mechanisms, we three gazed to-
gether toward tlie stupendous and
appalling spectacle before us.

For there before us burned in space
the colossal blinding sphere of mighty
Canopus, greatest and most central of
all the galaxy’s suns. A huge globe of
intensely brilliant white fire, to our
stunned eyes it seemed a gigantic wall
of light across all the heavens, its su-
pernal brilliance beating in upon us
dazzlingly despite the great light-
repellent shields which had been fitted
over all our cruiser’s windows to pro-
tect us from that terrific glare. Fa-
miliar enough to us had been the great
sun always, but now it was as though
we saw it for the first time in all its
stupefying splendor. For never be-
fore had we or any others approached
so near to it as now we were, our little
cruiser having moved at cautious
speed in toward it from the great
world of the Hall of Suns, and now
penetrating into the stupendous glow-
ing region of the mighty sun’s corona.

That corona was like a colossal halo
of glowing light that surrounded all
the giant sun and into which our mov-
ing little cruiser was penetrating,
seeming no more than some dark, tiny
insect in size. Gazing ahead through
the corona’s great glow, we could
make out the clearer features of the
huge sun’s surface before i;s, our win-
dow-shields allowing us to inspect
them though at the expense even then
of dazzled eyes. A tremendous sphere
of boiling white fire, of incandescent
white gases of unthinkable heat, the
mighty sun loomed before us. Out
from that sphere we could see vast
prominences leaping, titanic uprush-
ing jets of incandescent gas capable
each of licking up hundreds of
worlds. And upon the sun’s surface,
the photosphere, we could see here and
there darker regions, great sun-spots
which were each, we knew, gigantic
whirlpools or maelstroms of the in-

612

WEIRD TALES

candescent gases that composed the
colossal sun.

“Those gases — and those awful
fires “ said J'han JaL “To pen-

etrate into them — ^into a sun — ^it’s
something never dr^med of in aU the
galaxy before!”

“But we can do it — miist do it,” I
said. “Somewhere inside that sun is
the source of the vibrations that are
breaking up the galaxy, and they
must be halted.”

“But our protective equipment —
our generator and projectors — hadn’t
we best turn them on now?” asked
Mirk En. “This corona’s heat is grow-
ing every momert, Nort Norus.”

I nodded, glancing at a dial which
recorded the fact that the temperature
about us had become indeed danger-
ous to our cruiser. Then I swift-
ly clicked over the series of switches
that WKitioded the generator beneath
and the projectors about oiir ship. At
once the peculiar loud throbbing of
the generator became audible, radiat-
ing out the vibratiwis which were
meeting and destro3ang the vibrations
of radiant heat directly about us. And
as I glanced now at the dial, our
cruiser stiU racing onward, it was to
see the temperature that it recorded
swiftly decreasing, until in a moment
the tempei’ature just outside our
cruiser was the absolute cold of space, —
even as we raced in toward the mighty
sun!

From our ship’s sides came the low
hissing of the matter-destro3ring rays
being shot forth unceasingly in broad
fans that sheathed all our lAip. These
were not being used, really, since
there was no matter in the great sxm’s
corona, hut at every moment we were
drawing nearer toward the boiling
white sea of the sun’s photosphere.
Onward we were racing, J’han Jal’s
great talons steady on the controls,
Mirk En and I beside him; and now
through our window-shields it seemed
that Ae colossal sphere was only one
tremendous sea of blinding white
thundering flame that walled the

firmament before us. Outward, around
and near to us, as we shot on, the
mighty prominences of the huge sun
were leaping, and we saw that dead
ahead in the giant sun’s surface there
^un one of the gigantic maelstroms
or whirlpools that are called sun-
spots.

I pointed toward it. “Veer left,
J’han Jal,” I told the big Sii-ian.
“We daren’t be caught in one of those
sun-spot maelstroms — even with our
protective vacuxun-sheath it would
whirl us about in its great currents
and possibly wreck us.”

He swerved the ship to the left of
the great sun-spot’s maelstrom of un-
thinkable fires, a whiripool of flaming
gases that extended far beneath the
surface, we knew, and that could have
engulfed eountle^ worlds. And now
there were whirling about ^ls great
masses of glowing vapors, vapors that
were themselves of tremendous heat
and that were composed of iron and
calcitim and sodixim and many other
metals, existing in vapor form only,
here in the tremendous temperatures
of great Canopus. Through those
vapor-masses our cruiser was shooting
on unharmed, tbon^, its protective
rays keeping its %’aeuum always about
it, its generator’s vibrations repelling
and nullifying' the terrible radiant
heat from all about it. Onward we
shot until I saw with pounding heart
that within minutes we would be
pltmging into the terrible fires of the
mighty sun itself.

Nearer — nearer — ^we were racing
toward the surface, a titanic upright
sea of boiling white flame, and then
Mirk En cri^ out suddenly, pointed
ahead. From that surface a giant
prominence was shooting, was rushing
in an instant all about us. No sound
came from it to us across our vacuum-
sheath, but as it caught our cruiser it
whirled it this way and that with
wild, terrific power. For though the
gases of that prominence did not
touch the cruiser itself by reason of
it.s vacuum-sheath, their swift rush of

THE SUN PEOPLE

613

tremendous matter-masses exerted a
gravitational attraction upon our little
diip and tossed it this way and that
in their grip. I heard hoarse cries
from the crew beneath, glimpsed great
Jlian Jal holding our sliip’s stem
grimly ahead even in the grip of that
colossal out-rushing prominence, and
then it had receded and we were hum-
ming on toward the surface of mighty
Canopus. But now it lay- just before
us, an awful ocean of dazzling white
fire, the terrible and gigantic sun-
spot maelstrom away to our right.
And then our ship had shot into that
boiling white sea of flame, was plung-
ing into Canopus’ awful fires toward
its heart !

S TUNNED, blinded, overwhelmed, it
was in that moment as though all
about us was only a titanic rushing of
colossal masses of fire, a wild and
ceaseless fluxing of awful floods of
flame about our cruiser. Gripped and
tossed this way and that by rushing
masses of incandescent gases, I was
aware in a moment that J’han Jal
had kept the cruiser’s stem still for-
ward, and that we were plunging
farther and farther into those flames,
swaying and pitching from side to
side but racing steadily onward !
Steady around our ship there hung
the vacuum-sheath that kept from us
the destrojung fires, and steady be-
neath throbbed the generator whose
vibrations repelled the terrible heat
from all about us. Were either of
those protections to fail suddenly, I
knew, our cruiser and all within it
would vanish in a split-second in one
single blast of fire, changed into va-
pors by the awful heat of the incan-
descent masses into which we were
plunging !

On — on — still we were plunging
toward the great sun’s center. Mirk
En and I steadying ourselves be.side
J’han Jal as our cruiser rushed on
into Canopus’ thundering fires. Great
feathered Sirian, octopus-like Vegan,
erect earth-man — surely trio strange

enough did we make as we plunged on
in that fearful journey the like of
which none in the galaxj’ had ever
made before. On — on — and now it
seemed that the wild rush of awful
flame-masses became suddenly swifter,
more awful, in their thunderous rush
about us, became even more blinding,
even more unthinkable in heat.

“The photosphere!’’ cried J’han
Jal beside me. “ We ’ve passed through
the photosphere!’’

“Hold straight on!’’ I shouted.
“We’ve got to reach the center!’’

Now we -were reeling on into the
wild fires of the interior, whose tem-
perature all about us now, I knew,
was countless thousands of degrees!
On into that interior we were rushmg,
plunging through Canopus’ titanic
inferno with only our immaterial heat-
destroying vibrations and the slender
vacuum-sheath about our sliip to pro-
tect it from annihilation in those aw-
ful fires!

On and on — all things in the uni-
verse seemed to have dissolved mto a
single mighty flood of ru.shing flame
through which our ship was endlessly
battling. Beside me J’han Jal was
braced strongly against the controls,
holding them in a grasp of iron with
his great talons, keeping our cruiser
heading onward despite all the rush-
ing currents of fire that surged about
us and made our ship pitch and sway
crazily. To his right Mirk En held
with his great octopus-tentacles to the
control standards, gazing ahead sted-
fastly at the awful seas of fire through
which we rushed ; while I, braced b^
side J’han Jal, watched tensely the
dials before us, with loud in my ears
now the steady throbbing of our gen-
erator and the hissing of our rays
which were alone preserving us from
a fearful death, and the cries of our
crew beneath.

By now', I knew, we were deep be-
neath the surface, and since our pro-
tective equipment seemed functioning
perfectly my hopes that we might
attain the great sun’s center grew

614

WEIRD TALES

stronger. But in the very next mo-
ment panic stabbed lightning-like
across those hopes; for our cruiser
was suddenly gripped as though by a
gigantic hand, was whirled away
blindly through the fix*es as though
by colossal forces, J'han Jal and Mirk
En and myself being flung to the con-
trol room’s end by that wild swift
reeling of our ship. And as the ship
spun crazily in the grasp of the colos-
sal eurx'ents of fire, as the control
room’s walls and floor and ceil-
ing seemed revolving lightning-like
around us as we clutched in vain for
holds upon it, I heard J’han Jal’s
deep, despairing cry.

“A sun-spot!” he cried. “We’ve
run into one of the titanic maelstroms
beneath the surface!”

Even in that terrible instant the
meaning of the Sirian’s cry passed
through my ears to my brain in a re-
vealing flash of terror. A sun-spot’s
mighty maelstrom — and we had blun-
dered into it here far beneath the sur-
face! For we knew that the giant
whirlpools of the great sun-spots did
extend far into the sun’s interior, and
plunging into those interior fires we
had blundered into the terrific whirl-
ing currents of that awful maelstrom
of boiling gases. Now, gripped gravi-
tationally by the titanic currents of
the whirling maelstrom, our cruiser
was spun about like a chip spinning
in a maelstrom of water, whirled
about by those colossal currents with
temfic speed and force.

Flung against the control room’s
walls by the cruiser’s terrible gyra-
tions, I heard from beneath the wild
cries of our crew!s dissimilar mem-
bers, the hoarse shouts of J’han Jal
and Mirk En beside me, the metallic
straining and drawing of the cruiser’s
walls as they jnelded a little to the
terrific forces which were whirling
the ship about. With every moment
the cruiser was being whirled at great-
er and greater speed, around and
downwai'd, and I guessed that it was
nearing the narrowing bottom of the

gigantic maelstrom, far beneath the
surface. Not for long could our ship
spin thus in the grip of that colossal
maelstrom, I knew, and resist its ter-
rific forces; for though our gener-
ator's heat - destroying vibrations
throbbed forth still, though the hissing
rays kept about our ship still its
vacuum sheath, it seemed to my ears
in that wild moment that the gener-
ator’s throbbing had faltei’ed a little
beneath this wild whirling. Were that
generator to halt for but a fractional
instant, I knew, that instant would see
us resolved into vapors. And unless
we won free of the terrible s\m-spot’s
whirling depths the generator could
not much longer function, it was
clear.

The thought spurred me to wild
efforts to reach the controls as we
were tossed about the control room.
Twice I gripped. them and was tom
1'rom my hold, and then as for the
third time I grasped them I reached
back, caught J’han Jal who was roll-
ing beside me, pulled him to me ; and
then he caught the levers in his grasp,
and wdth my hands and Mirk En’s
great tentacles bracing him, strove to
bring our ship to a level keel in the
whirling fires, to win out of the awful
whirlpool. Slowly, foot by foot, we
fought those whirling currents, and
foot by foot edged out of them, until
at last, with the last of the cruiser’s
power, it seemed, we had w<mi clear
and were plunging onward again into
the inteiior of mighty Canopus.

W E DREW great breaths as we won
out of that perilous maelstrom,
and I found myself trembling from
the I’eaetion. But now, as we plunged
still on and on, I estimated that we
were already far in great Canopus’
interior. It was from somewhere at
the center, we knew, from whatever
strange I’egions of atomic force might
lie there, that there wei*e I’adiating
the vibrations that were breaking up
our galaxy, and now J’han Jal and
Mirk En and I began to watch for

THE SUN PEOPLE

615

the appearance of such regions. Set
up before me were three of those
directional-ray instruments with which
our scientists had determined the ori-
gin of the great \'ibration8, and I saw
now from those instruments that the
point of origin lay not far ahead, that
we must be already almost in toward
Canopus’ center. The mighty sun-
spot maelstrom had whirled us far in,
I knew, and so we watched excitedly
as we plunged through the rushing
fires, Mirk En keeping his gaze upon
the radio-active recording-instiuments
which would I’egister the nearness of
any such atomic force regions as those
for which we searched.

Upon those instruments, though,
showed no sign of the existence of
such regions, yet my own instruments
showed unmistakably that with every
moment we were approaching the
strange vibration’s origin. The thing
was inexplicable, and as we shot on
and on, already almost to the center
of the mighty sun, as I guessed, it be-
came even stranger to u.s. for still there
were no indications of atomic force
regions ahead. Had our teri’ible jour-
ney into Canopus’ central fires been
in vain? It could not lx*, I tried to
reas-sure myself, since my dials shotved
the vibration’s origin close ahead.
And suddenly a still stranger, thing
obtruded itself upon our attention,
and that was the fact that around us
the fires were becoming denser, slower-
moving, our temperature dials show-
ing them to be growing also somewhat
cooler. Those fires around us were
like the surface-layer or photo.sphere
of Canopus into uliich we had fir.st
plmiged !

A photosphere here at the great
sun ’.s heart ! Even as we stared stupe-
ficdly at those fli'cs through which we
rushed, I .saw from the direction dials
that the origin of the vibrations that
we sought w'as directly ahead now.
Tensely I gazed forward as we shot
through tlie wliite fires, hoping to
glimpse the atomic regions from
which those vibrations came. Then

suddenly, breath-takingly, our ship
had rushed out of its whit© fires and
into space — a great space that
stretched before us, a tremendous
white-lit space encircled on all sides
by the rushing fires of colossal Cano-
pus around it !

A tremendous space here at Cano-
pus’ center ! But even as we stared in
stupefaction we saw a thing more
stunning, saw that within this space
there revolved a great ring of a score
of spherical worlds ! That ring of
worlds moved almost at the edge of
the mighty globular space, almost
touching, it seemed, the encircling
white fires of Canopus. And as I saw
that now the direction-arrows of the
dials pointed toward those worlds, I
uttered a great cry of sudden under-
standiiig.

“These w'orlds!’’ I cried. “These
worlds at Canopus’ center! It’s from
ihem that the gravitation-destroying
vibratioM are radiating — the vibra-
tions that are breaking up our uni-
verse!’’

3

“'^HESE worlds the source of the
igreat vibrations?’’ cried J’han
Jal. “But how can this great space —
these worlds — exist here at Canopus’
center?’’

“And what upon those worlds is
radiating those vibrations ? ’ ’ exclaimed
Mirk En. “Here at the heart of
Canopus, it seems, are space, and
worlds, and — ijeoplesof those woi’lds? ’ ’

We stared toward tlio Vegan, star-
tled by that .suggestion, and then I
motioned toward the nearest of the
groat ring of worlds. “There is but
one thing to do — to reconnoiter them.
Whatever is upon them, it is certain
that they are the origin of the vibra-
tions.”

J’han Jal swerved over the con-
trols, sending our ship humming
toward the neare.st of that gi’eat ring
of circling planets. Those worlds, we
saw, moved around always in that
same ring formation inside this hoi-

616

WEIRD TALES

low space, very close to the mighty
walls of white fire that encircled them,
so close indeed that they seemed al-
most on the point of plunging inside
those fires. All of the score of worlds
seemed of the same approximate size,
and it was toward the whole ring of
them, and not any one, that the direc-
tion-dials pointed, which thus indi-
cated all of them as the source of the
vibrations that were breaking up our
whole galaxy.

As we hummed through the white-
lit space toward that nearest world I
was gazing about, and could see that
this tremendous hollow at Canopus'
heart, while of great size and able to
hold hundreds of worlds like those
that moved within it, was yet not
large when compared to the fierj’- mass
of the great sun aboiit it. Doa^ti
through that titanic mass of fires we
had penetrated to this hollow with our
cruiser, the first in all the galaxy ever
to dream of its existence here at the
great sun’s heart. And now I reached
forth and turned off the generator
and the hissing ray-sheath, tuniing
then to the mouthpiece before me and
briefly apprising the crew beneath to
keep watchfully to their stations at
the cruiser’s propulsion-mechanisms
and ray-tubes.

By that time the world toward
which we were heading was looming
large before us, a great sphere gleam-
ing oddly in the light of the encir-
cling white fires beside it, moving
along just mside those rushing fires,
it seemed, with the great ling of its
fellow worlds. High above it we
soared, circled once or twice, and
then were dropping smoothly doivn in
watchful, broad spirals. J’haii Jal and
Mirk En and I gazed watchfully
(toward its surface, and then suddenly
(the big Sirian uttered a low exclama-
tion and his talons upon the controls
brought our cruiser abruptly to a
halt. At the same moment as he, Mirk
En and I had glimpsed clearly the
features of the gleaming world’s sur-
face, a few thousand feet below, and

as we gazed down now with him Mirk
En’s A'oice was echoing our thoughts.

"A peopled world, as I suspected!”
the great Vegan exclaimed. “A peo-
pled world — here at Canopus’ heart I ’ ’

A peopled world it was, indeed,
that lay beneath us, a world whose
surface gleamed so oddly because al-
most every square yard of it was
paved with white metal, that reflected
iDack brightly the intense brilliance of
the white fires that encircled these
worlds. And here and there rose
strtictures of the same white metai,
great white-gleaming cubes of giant
dimensions. Not crowded together,
but set here and there at regular in-
ter^'als over this world’s surface -with
great open spaces between them were
those white-gleaming cubes. Here and
there through the air — for air it was
now into which our cruiser had
dropped — there moved from building
to building what seemed square plat-
forms of the same white metal, flitting
smoothly above this world. And upon
those squares, and upon the metal
pa\ang beneath, we could glimpse the
race that peopled this world.

And that race, those creatures, were
themselves cube-creatures ! Each of
them was a great cube of white flesh
the height of a tall man, a cube sup-
ported by four powerful flesh-limbs,
one at each comer of its cube-like
body! From the four upper comers,
in the same way, there branched four
powerful arms, while in each of the
four sides of the cube-like body was
set a single eye, and in one of those
sides also a small mouth-opening !
Cube-ci’eatures ! I saw, even as we
stared in amazement at them, that it
must have been because of the cube-
shape of their own bodies that these
creatui’es had constructed their build-
ings and almost all else upon their
world in the same shape, unconscious-
ly following the design of their own
strange bodies. And in ceaseless
streams and groups, they were mov-
ing there beneath oiir hovering
cruiser!

THE SUN PEOPLE

617

“But that square of green force!”
cried Mirk En, pointing across the
strange world’s gleaming metal sur-
face. “You see it — ^that square of
green light there?”

“Green force!” I exclaimed, gazing
toward where he pointed. “And it’s
toward that square, and toward the
other worlds, that our direction dials
point! That green force it is, then,
that is radiating the vibrations out
into our galaxy!”

For thei'e, far across that world’s
surface from us, there was set flush
into the metal paving between the
great cube-buildings a giant square of
glowing green light. Unceasingly it
glowed, a deep strange glow that even
to our eyes seemed more force than
light, and we saw that it faced out
toward and through the encirclmg
fires, that the gravitation-destroying
vibrations were thus penetrating
through the -fires of colossal Canopus
all about these worlds and destroying
the attraction of all the galaxy’s suns
for each other! It was the strange
cube-creatures of these worlds at
Canopus’ heart, therefore, and not
any regions of atomic force, that were
sending out the vibrations that al-
ready were wrecking our galaxy !

But why? I think that was the
question that throbbed most intensely
through our brains as we stared ap-
palled dowm toward that significant
square of glowing gi’een force. Why
should these cube-creatures, here at
the center of Canopus and separated
forever by its fires from the oxiter gal-
axy, never even dreamed of by the
peoples of the galaxy — why should
they want to break up the galaxy
around Canopus? What strange, dark
plan had caxxsed them to send forth
the vibrations that were causing the
suns to leave our universe, to break
up that swann forever as they moved
into outer space? The thing was in-
comprehensible, and J’han Jal was
turning toward me as perplexed as
myself.

“That great square of green force

it is that is releasing part of the vibra-
tions out upon our galaxy!” he said.
“But then there must be more of
them — on the others of these worlds,
Nort Nomis!”

I nodded swiftly. “There must be,”
I said, “a great square of glowing
force upon each world, possibly,
though I see no control for them. But
the next world — ^u'e’ll go on to it and
see ”

In a moment our cruiser had shot
up again and was rocketing out from
the atmasphere of that world toward
the next, through the space that sepa-
rated them. Swiftly that next world
in the ring was looming in view as we
hummed toward it, seeming as its
gleaming .surface largened before us
!to be exactly like the first. The great
white-gleaming cube-buildings, the
squares moving to and fro from build-
ing to building, the strange cube-
creatures that moved here and there
on squares and on the metal paving —
all were the same as on the first world.
The same too was the gi'eat square of
glowing green force set in the metal
paving, and we saw that this green
force-square, by reason of its w’orld’s
altered position in the great ring,
pointed out through Canopus’ fires in
a slightly different direction, releas-
ing its vibrations out over the galaxy
at a different angle.

Stupefied, almost unbelieving, we
stared, and then were moving on
toward the third world in the great
ring, spiraling down through its at-
mosphere toward it in the same way.
At first glance all seemed the same
there as on the first tw'o worlds, cube-
creatures and buildings and flying
squares and giant square of green
force appearing a replica of the
others. But as we gazed down from
our cruiser’s control room Mirk En
pointed suddenly toward something
beside the gi’eat square of green force,
something small and gleaming which
we could but vaguely glimpse. At
once J’han Jal was sending the
cruiser lower toward it, lower with our

618

WEIRD TALES

eyes riveted upon it until we had
halted but a few hundred feet above
the dying squares below. And from
that height we saw that it was a small
white-metal cube-structure beside the
giant inset square of green force. A
small gleaming cube-structure raised
on four slender metal limbs above the
level of the force-square, and filled,
we could see through its open door,
witli panel upon panel of strange-
appearing instruments and switches
among which moved a half-dozen
watching cube-creatures!

“The central control!” I cried. “It
can only be the central switch-box of
the gi'eat squares of radiating green
force on all this ring of worlds — the
switches that control the radiation
outward through the galaxy of the
great gravitation-destro 3 dng wave!”

*‘But look beneath, Nort Norus!
The squares — the cube-creatures —
thye’ve seen us, they’re coming up
toward its!”

J ’han jal's cry drove through my
brain like a stiletto of sound, and
as I glanced away from the central
switch I saw that beneath us the
swarming squares were swiftly rising,
the eyes of their cube-creature occu-
pants turned up toward us ! From far
away over the gleaming surface those
squares were leaping up through the
air, in scores and hundreds! And as
they sped upward, from the foremost
of them, from bulges near the edges
of those metal squares, there shot
toward us slender beams of green
light, that seemed the same as those
great glowing squares of green force
which radiated the gravitation-de-
stroying vibrations.

“Up, J’han Jal !” I cried. “They’re
coming from the side too — ^they’re
trying to get above tis!”

For even as J’han Jal flung open
the controls and sent our cruiser
whiriing steeply upward I saw that
the squares ruining toward us from
!the sides were whirling up in a sharp
slant in an effort to cut off our escape,

to catch us between themselves and
the uprushing squares from below.
Up we flash^ and then from the
squares beneath that had leaped to
within striking distance there stabbed
toward us a score or more of the
glowing green beams. But at that mo-
ment J’han Jal jerked our ship over
in a wild reel sidewise through the
air, and the green beams drove by us
to strike the squares rushing above
us.

As they struck we saw those squares
crumble as though compressed sud-
denly from all around by a gigantic
grasp, and fall suddenly to the sur-
face of the world below. Even in that
wild instant as our cruiser reeled
away I realized what had happened,
realized that those green beams were
of the same gravitation-destroying
power as the great green squares of
force that were disintegrating all our
galaxy. Striking those squares above
us, they had instantly cut off from
them ^1 gravitational forces from
about them, and since those squares,
like aU other things in this world and
in any world, had been constructed
to meet the gravitational pull of the
world beneati it, the sudden complete
removal of that pull so affected them
as to make them collapse and crumple
merely from their own interior
stresses.

Now, though, as our cruiser shot
sidewise and upward, the green beams
of the squares beneath were leaping
up again. And as we dodged them
again by jerking to one side, I shouted
a swift order into the mouthpiece be-
fore me. The next moment there
stabbed down from our cruiser’s ray-
tubes the deadly crimson rays of the
Interstellar Patrol, those terrific rays
which wdpe from existence all matter
they touch by changing it from a
matter-vibration in the ether to a
li^t-vibration. They shot down like
stabbing swords of crimson light
among the swarms of upwhirling
squares beneath us, and as there broke
and burst across those swarms flare

THE SUN PEOPLE

619

upon, flare of fonntaining red bril-
liance, dozens of those squares were
flashed into annihilation. I heard the
hoarse shouts of JTian Jal and Mirk
En beside me, at that, and the high-
pitched cries of our ray-crews be-
neath, but swiftly the uprushing
squares, despite our lightning-leaping
ci’imson rays, were coming up after
us, overtaking us.

“Straight up!” I cried to J’han
Jal. “ We ’re almost out of this world ’s
atmosphere and they can’t leave it on
those squares!”

Already we were shooting up
through the last of that atmosphere,
and now as we flashed up into empty
space, the thundering wall of white
flame of great Canopus encircling us,
ahead and above us, we saw the pur-
suing hordes of squares slowing, halt-
ing beneath. But even as we seemed
safe from pursuit the cube-creatures
upon those squares were swiftly don-
ning gleaming metallic and flexible
suits. In another moment the cube-
creatures were rushing up once more
after us, rushing up from their
world’s atmosphere into the empti-
ness of space.

“They’ve put on metal suits that
protect them from the cold and air-
lessness of space!” exclaimed Mirk
En. “ They ’re coming after us ! ”

“On into Canopus’ fires, then!” I
cried. “It’s the one way to escape
them!”

And with its utmost speed our cruis-
er shot onward toward those roaring
white encircling flames from which an
hour ago we had emerged into this
great space. Close behind us were the
pursuing squares once more, now, and
again their green glowing ^ams and
our crimson rays were crossing and
clashing as they shot up after us. Pur-
suit and flight of inexpressible
strangeness was that, pursuit by
strange cube-creatures who were
wrecking our galaxy, and flight on
our part into the awful fires of the
mighty siin. Already I had turned on
our generator of heat-nullifying vi-

brations, our ray-prejectors that kept
the vacuum sheath about our ship,
but now, though those white fires were
close ahead, the pursuing squares
were closer behind. A last burst of
speed, a last blast of green beams
loosed from just behind us, and then
we had plunged once more into great
Canopus’ rushing fires.

“We’ll wait here inside the sun un-
til they’ve given up the pursuit,” I
told the others as our ship plunged
on. “Then we can make our way back
to that world — ^to the central switch-
cube!”

So, bringing the cruiser to a halt,
we hung motionless in the swirling
seas of fire, our generator and vacuum
sheath protecting us perfectly from
the awful heat and flame. For minute
after long minute we hung there,
Itnowing that if we emerged too soon
the cube-creatures’ squares would still
be awaiting tis. Time was precious to
us, we Imew, for already had passed
almost half of the twenty hours that
had remained to us before the gal-
axy’s outmost suns would have pa^ed
outside its swarm forever, and we
must destroy that great vibration
which was loosing those suns before
the twentieth hour ended if the gal-
axy’s break-up was to be halted.

J’han Jal remained grimly silent
at the controls. Mirk En and I going
down now through the cruiser’s ray-
rooms and motor-rooms, inspecting
the propulsion mechanisms and espe-
cially the generator and ray-projectors
that kept us from annihilation in the
fires that thundered about us. At last
we returned to the control room, and
having hung for two hours inside the
sun’s fires, began to move in again
toward the central great space.

On we plunged and then broke out
into that space again, its great ring of
worlds before us. No cube-creatures
on their squares were in sight before
us, though, and J’han Jal and Mirk
En and I breathed with heartfelt re-
lief at the sight. But abruptly, at that
moment, something hissed and swung

620

WEIRD TALES

around our cruiser from behind! We
whirled about. Behind us had crept
upon us three great squares, close to
the wall of fires, one of which had
thi’own around our ship a great band
of flexible metal that pinioned our
cruiser to that square, while from
right and left the other two great
squares, crowded with cube-crcaturcs,
were rushing upon us !

4

“Raptured!” I cried wildly.

V>< “They’ve lain in Avait for us —
have captured us and our cruiser!”

“Not yet!” shouted J’han Jal.
“Those other two squares — look!”

For at the very moment that we
became first aware of the ru.sh of
those two squares from cither side
upon us, there had come a swift hiss-
ing from beneath and then out from
our cruiser’s sides there had driven
to right and left a half-dozen bril-
liant crimson beams, the raj's of our
ray-crews beneath who were not to
be taken unawares even by such a
surprize as this ! In the next moment
those onrushing squares Avere mere
bursting fiares of crimson light. But
the square that held us by the great
flexible metal band had draAvn us
against itself, and we dared not loose
our rays upon it, for they tvould
have annihilated our oaaui ship. And
as Ave realized that fact there came
upon our ship ’s side, upon the space-
door in its hull, a terrific hammering
and clanging.

“The cube-creatures on that
square!” yelled Mirk En. “They’re
trying to break inside — ^to board
us!”

“Try to break loose from them,
J’han Jal!” I cried. “Try to break
the band that holds us to them!”

But already the great Sirian had
flung open the controls to their
utmost, had sent our ship leaping
forAvard with all the force of its
throbbing mechanisms. But it could
not break thus from the hold of the

groat square beside us, the thick
l)road metal band that it had flung
around us holding our cruiser to it
as though in the grip of a giant. And
out on that square, massed against
the space-door of our cruiser, AA^ere
croAvding the cube-creatures in their
strange metal suits, hammering with
metal tools upon our space-door,
stiUA-ing Avith all their power to break
or pry it open, to pour in upon us.
They dared not use their green
beams any more than Ave dared use
our crimson rays, but once inside the
cruiser they meant to SAveep us from
existence, it Avas clear. A moment
more and they would have battered
through the great door — and then I
shouted into the mouthpiece to my
tAvo Mends.

“To the hull space-door, quick,” I
.shouted. “We’ll use our own space-
suits to hold them out — to fight it
out Avith them!”

And with Mirk En and J’han Jal
racing beside me, the big Sirian
laughing a little from sheer joy of
battle, we were rushing down from
the control room into the ray-room
from which the big space-door
opened. The clangor inside that room
from the creatures beating against
it outside Avas terrific, but in that
moment Ave paid it but small atten-
tion, all our creAV rushing into the
room and throwing themselves into
the space-suits Avhich Avere in every
cruiser of the Interstellar Patrol.
For each of our dissimilar forms a
specially shaped space-suit Avas pro-
vided, and instantly Ave were don-
ning those suits. They Avere of flex-
ible metal, much like those iised by
the cube-creatures, but haA'ing trans-
parent-metal vision-plates near the
head of each, each suit providing a
perfect insulation against the cold
and aiilessness of space. Another
moment and Ave Avere almost all in
our suits, great Mirk En struggling
last of all into his big nine-tentacled
suit, and then I flung suddenly open
the great space-door against which

THE SUN PEOPLE

621

the things outside hammered. As the
air of the ray-room rushed out into
space our scores of followers, with
J’han Jal and Mirk En and me at
their head, were rushing out upon
the hordes of cube-creatures on the
square fastened to our cruiser.

The next instant we were whirling
across that square with those crea-
tures in the wildest hand-to-hand
battle that I have ever experienced.
Cube-creatures in scores, and scores
of dissimilar beings drawn from
every peopled star in the galaxy,
almost, we struggled in mad combat
on the slippery metal surface of the
great square, hanging there in empty
space. Away to' the right there spun
the nearest of the great ring of
worlds, and to our left and all about
us flamed the awful barrier of flame
that was the giant sun itself. And
we creatures there on the square’s
surface, each in his space-suit, were
engaged in a wild battle whose in-
tensity was such as to make us forget
utterly in that moment the cosmic
and awful panorama about us.

Gripped on first rushing forth by
two of the cube-creatures, I felt their
eight great arms swiftly grasping me
as I endeavored with wild blows to
thrust them back. Beneath those
blows their cube-Uke bodies flinched,
but as we whirled they gripped me
tighter,, and I saw that they were try-
ing to tear open the space-suit I wore
— ^werc trying to annihilate me in-
stantly by allowing the air generated
automatically inside it to rush out
into space, causing me to perish
instantly. But even as they grasped
it I had gripped a metal tool that was
knocking about on the square’s sur-
face beneath me in the wild mel6e of
combat that surrounded us, and
brought that sharp-edged tool down
upon their own flexible metal suits in
two swift great blows. As its sharp
end pierced through those suits, I felt
their grasp on me relax, vanish, saw
them crumple to the square’s surface
dead, slain instantly by the cold of

space as their suits were penetrated!

But about me now were rushing
a half-dozen more of the cube-crea-
tures, three of whom had grasped me
again, and as I struggled fiercely
against those in turn I saw that all
about me was still raging furiously
this strange and fearful battle.
Great J’han Jal, I saw, was towering
erect in his metal suit at the center
of a half-dozen of the cube-creatures,
sending them reeling back from him
with swift raking blows of his great
taloned arms. But most terrible of
all in that grim combat was Mirk
Bn. The great octopus-like Vegan
had gripped the square’s edge firmly
with two of his mighty tentacles, and
now with the other seven of those ten-
tacle-arms was gripping cube-creature
after cube-creature in the scores that
whirled about him, was slamming
them down upon the square’s surface
with terrific force, his mighty arms
cutting paths of death through the
throngs that swirled about him.

And over all the surface of the
square the scores of our crew, out-
numbered almost two to one as they
were, were battling furiously with
the great cube-creatures. The strange,
unlike forms of our crew’s members
in their metal space-suits, the masses
of great cube-creatures — these
whirled around me in a mad melee
in which the only things clear to me
were the three great monsters with
whom I was battling, and who had
borne me down now to my knees as
I struck furiously at them with fast-
waning strength. One of them
crumpled and dropped dead as my
metal tool-weapon pierced through
his suit, but the other two had
gripped me firmly about the body
now, and for minutes — minutes in
which I was conscious only of the
wild roar of combat about us, the
swaying to and fro of battling forms
around me — I struggled with those
two great creatures. They gradually
bore me down, and then both, grip-
ping my body, were endeavoring

622

WEIRD TALES

with all their strength to tear the
round head-ease loose from my space-
suit.

I felt the metal of that suit giving,
knew that another moment would
see instant death for me as the suit
was torn open, and then there was
a rush of movement beyond the two
things and they w’ere gripped
abruptly by swift-coiling metal-clad
tentacles that raised them high and
slammed them down upon the square
with terrible force, where they lay
broken and dead. I staggered to my
feet, then, and saw that it was Mirk
Ell who had saved me. And I saw,
too, that about us on. the square the
combat with the cube-creatures was
almost over, nearly all of them hav-
ing been killed, while but half of our
crew was left around us.

I T WAS Mirk En’s great fighting-
power that more than aught else
had turned the scale for us against
the great odds we had faced, 'and
now with Mirk En and J’han Jal I
was leaping with our crew’s remain-
ing members upon the dozen remain-
ing cube-creatures. Fiercely they
fought us still, but we gave them no
quarter, and in a few moments all of
them but one had been slain by us.
Mirk En raising that one cube-crea-
ture upward to whirl him down to
death also. As he did so, though, a
sudden idea flashed across my mind
and I grasped the great Vegan’s
tentacle-arm, motioned to him to
take the cube-creature into our
cruiser. He paused, then did so,
J’han Jal and I and the remaining
members of our crew, still in our
space-suits, folloiving him into the
cruiser. The square was littered now
with the tumbled dead of our crew
and of the cube-creatures alike, all
still in their metal suits.

As we entered our cruiser, slam-
ming shut the space-door and turn-
ing on the air-control that filled the
ray -room again with air, we swiftly

doffed our heavy space-suits, and I
spoke swiftly to J’han Jal and Mirk
En. “This captured cube-creature!”
I told them. “From him we can
learn, maybe, how best to halt this
vibration his race is loosing outward
thi’ough the galaxy.”

Mirk En nodded, glancing at the
cube-creature, whose own metal suit
had been ripped off and who stood
guarded now beside us. “We should
be able to communicate with him
with the thought-speech machine,
Nort Norus,” he said. “At least
we’ll try it.”

The great Vegan Science Chief
uttered an order and in a moment
one of our crew had brought from
another of the cruiser’s rooms the
thought-speech machine, a compact
metal cabinet from which five flat
metal bands led, ending in shining
little clips. It was this mechanism
that had been used always among
the galaxy’s races for communication
with those races who were without
audible speech, since this mechanism
was one that mechanically converted
thought into clear speech in our own
language, by catching and amplify-
ing the brain’s thought-currents and
causing them to actuate a cor-
responding series of word-speakers.
Whether it would work with a crea-
ture so alien to us as the cube-crea-
ture we did not know, but there was
a chance that it might ; and so Mirk
En swiftly attached the mechanism’s
bands to the creature’s body, making
five small incisions in that body after
some study of it, and attaching the
clips of the bands to the nerve-cen-
ters inside. Then, reversing the
machine ’s control so that speech into
it was reproduced in the creature’s
brain as thought, I spoke clearly into
the cabinet’s opening.

“You are captured and have but
one chance for life,” I said, “and
that is to tell us your race’s purpose
in loosing those gravitation-destroy-

THE SUN PEOPLE

62.3

ing vibrations, and to tell us how
best they can be turned off.”

The cube-creature’s strange dark
eyes, one in each side of him,
widened as I spoke thus, and I knew
from that that the machine had re-
produced my speech as thought in
his brain. I reversed the mechan-
ism’s control, and in a moment the
answer came in the clear metallic
tones of the mechanism, the cube-
creature’s thought translated by the
mechanism into our speech.

“You will spare me if I tell you
that?” he asked, and quickly I re-
plied in the affirmative. Then for a
moment the cube-creature surveyed
us with his inscrutable, strange eyes,
while Mirk En and J’han Jal and I
watched him, and then he was speak-
ing, or rather the mechanism con-
nected to him was speaking to us his
thoughts. And as from time to time
that mechanism went silent for a
brief instant we knew it was because
certain thoughts of this alien crea-
ture had no equivalent in our
speech.

“It is to ward off doom from our-
selves,” the metallic voice was say-
ing, “that we have loosed doom upon
your galaxy. For during all the ages
that you peoples of the outer uni-
A'erse have existed on the worlds
around your stars, the stars around
this mighty central sun, we cube-
creatures, we sun-peonies, have
existed here inside it. This mighty
sun of Canopus” — ^the thought-
speech machine so rendered his own
name for the great sun — “this great
sun of Canopus has always had this
tremendous hollow here at its heart.
It was when the mighty sun formed
first out of the condensing nebulte
that this hollow at its heart formed,
because the light-pressure inward of
the colossal sun around it would
allow it to condense no further. And
so this great hollow here, a small one
compared to the colossal sun’s mass
but large in itself, has existed

always unknown to you of the outer
universe.

“In this hollow there swirled at
first the chance fragments of great
incandescent gases that had broken
into it from the condensing Sun
around it, and these gases because of
their comparatively small quantity
soon cooled, hardened into molten
masses of matter, which in turn were
drawn by their own gravitational at-
traction for each other into worlds,
into a score of worlds turning in a
compact ring at the very center of
this hollow.

“These inner planets of Canopus
being of the same physical constitu-
tion as its outer ones, it is not sur-
prizing that at last upon them even
as upon the outer ones there arose
life. For even as the outer planets,
these inner worlds had air and
water. And though they received
great heat from Canopus’ terrible
fires all around them, that heat was
not too great. For you know that
a photosphere will form over a great
sun’s surface, a denser layer that
impedes somewhat the interior light
and heat from radiating outward;
and in the same way a photosphere
layer had formed at Canopus’ inner
surface, around the great hollow it
enclosed. This kept the heat radiated
into that hollow from being so great
as to scorch life from its worlds, and
so life flourished and came at last
to its culminating species in us cube-
creatures. We races, with our great-
er knowledge and science came at
last to hold unchallenged all the
score of Canopus’ inner worlds.

“We built our great metal cube-
buildings, paving even the surface
of our worlds between those build-
ings with metal. We devised the
squares on which we can fly through
air or space, and the metal suits that
protect us in moving through space
and that allow us to move easily
from one of our worlds to another.
Through the colossal fires about us

624

WEIRD TALES

we could not pierce, bnt we did find
a way to send a light-ray unbent and
unchanged through the great sun’s
terrific light and heat and force. And
by means of that way we were able
to look out upon the galaxy of suns
that was gathered about our own.
We saw the inhabitants of those suns
rising in ciTilization, saw their great
interstellar wars giving way to a
confederation of all their peoples,
saw them fighting back the vast
perils that crowded from time to
time upon them. But never, we saw,
did they ever dream of the existence
of our worlds and races here at the
center of their greatest sun, and never
did we desire to leave our home here
where we were safe, we thought,
from all dangrs.

“But at last we cube-creatures
realized tliat there was one danger
from which we were not safe, a dan-
ger that had crept gradually upon
us for eons. As I told you, when our
inner worlds had first formed here at
Canopus’ heart they had moved in a
small ring at the very center of this
hollow space. But though they would
have moved there always, their
centrifugal force of motion just bdl-
aneing ^e outward puli of Canopus
around them, there was another
force acting upon them. That was
the additional pull of all the thou-
sands of mighty suns that had
formed also around Canopus, whose
distant gi-avitational attraction, act-
ing upon us through the encircling
fires, was enough to cause our ring
of worlds to expand, so that as time
went on the ring was moving just in-
side the encircling fires. And very
soon, we realized, the unceasing pull
of the galaxy’s many suns would cause
our ring of worlds to spread into the
eneireling fires, our worlds plunging
to death inside those fires.

“It was a mighty danger indeed
that confronted us, and we gathered
aU our power and craft to meet it.
We could not leave this space at

Canopus’ center mad migrate out-
ward in all our hordes, yet death
faced our worlds swiftly here. So
we made at last our great decision
to meet that danger by radiating
outward a great gravitation-destroy-
ing vibration that would nullify the
attraction of all the galaxy’s suns.
That would halt their pull upon us
and save our worlds from death, but
at the same time it would break up
the whole galaxy! That, however,
was of hut small import to us, for
we were determined to save our own
worlds, even though in doing so we
destroyed your universe.

5

“Co WE set to work upon the ap-
paratus that was to radiate that
gravitation-destroying vibration out-
ward. In each of our worlds was
placed a great square mechanism
whose top alone showed, set flush in
each world’s surface, and which
glowed with green force as it radi-
ated those tremendous vibrations.
Each green force-square was pointed
out in a different direction, by reason
of the ring-formation of our worlds,
and so thdr vibrations would reach
through all the galaxy. And upon
my o-wTi world was placed the
central control, its super-intricate
s^vitehes and recorders being located
in a small upheld eube-building just
beside the force-square of that world.

“Our v/ork was finished, btit only
just in time ! Por while we had been
toiling upon it, our ring of 'Worlds
had been spread still farther, and
they now were so close inside the en-
eireling fires of Canopus that minute.s
more of that pull of the galaxy’s
suns would drag us into those fires !
Like mad beings we had worked
toward the last, so that it was but
a few moments before our world’s
were to take their final plunge to
(Continued m page 713)

U p FROM the somber canyon
of the Picketwire the wind
rose and howled, driving the
rain against the line-camp bunkhouse
©f the Diamond Cross. And the clus-
tering cedars and pinons bowed and
shuddered, as if in horror of the
night.

Inside the bunkhouse three men
were gathered: Shorty Lawlor, wiz-
ened and narrow-eyed, shuffling cards
for his eternal solitaire ; Rosy Cheeks
Dajdon, boyish and young and look-
ing out of place on a cattle-ranch ;
and Pedro Rivera, the Mexican —
bovine, superstitious Pedro, with his
chin cupped in his hands, staring
somberly at Rosy.

Rosy sat twirling a crucifix by its
chain between his slim fingers. An
incredibly old crucifix it was, all in-
enisted with dirt and grime, of a
strange, bizarre pattern that aecord-
W. T.— 2

ing to Shorty looked “heathenish.”

“Pedro says we oughta dig up the
body again and give it ba6k the
cross,” observed Shorty, laying out
four aces.

“Don’t see how it come to drop
off,” frowned Rosy, “but as long as
it did, I’m keeping it. Maybe this’ll
bring real money from a museum or
some place. Say, that fellow must’ve
been lying there, in his armor, for
maybe three hundred years, till the
flood washed him up. He must be
one of the old Spanish fellows that
used to ride herd around here.”

“You been sayin’ that all day.”
said Shorty wearily. “Looks like a
hunk o’ nothin’ to me. An’ I never
heard o’ no luck cornin’ from robbin’
the dead.”

“We didn’t rob him!” said Rosy
indignantly. “This dropped off when
we carried him over to the grave wc

e25

626

WEIRD TALES

dug. What was the use of standing
out there in the rain to dig him up
again just to give him this? lie’ll
never miss it. Shut up, Pedro! You
give me the galloping fidgets!”

“Why,” asked Pedro in heavy
Spanish, “why did not the dead one
rot and crumble in those three hun-
dred years?”

“Air’s too dry in Colorado,” said
Rosy. ‘ ‘ Shut up ! Gosh, listen to the
coyotes!”

“Wolves,” corrected Shorty. “It
looks like even a wolf’d have bet-
ter sense than to be out on a night
like this. Sufferin’ cactus! What was
that ? ’ ’

Cutting high above the screaming
wind and lashing rain came a wild,
inhuman cry. The howling of the
wohes stopped abruptly.

“Mountain-lion,” said Rosy.

“Ain’t no cat, ’’ said Shorty, “not
out in the rain.”

The scream came again, nearer
this time, and picking up his rifle,
Shorty stepped to the door. The
rain lashed his face, and the flick-
ering lamplight in the room only in-
tensified the darkness outside. But its
feel)le gleam must have carried, for
a sudden shout came out of the dark-
ness. Shorty bellowed in reply.

And then into the circle of light a
man stepped as abruptly as if he had
materialized out of the night. Shorty
stepped back to allow him to enter,
but at the threshold the man halted,
looking up at the little cowpuncher
questioningly.

‘ ‘ Don ’t stand there, stranger ! Come
in! Come in!”

With a smile that showed .sharp-
pointed teeth, the stranger entered
with a softly murmured; “A thou-
sand thanks, my friend,” in oddly ac-
cented Spanish.

Rosy carelessly slipped the cruci-
fix about his neck as he arose to
greet the stranger. He drew back a
step as the man came foi’ward ; there
was something repulsive in the fel-
low’s yellow, parchment skin, and

his black eyes that seemed to have a
red glow far back in their depths.

“Come here to the fire an’ squat,
mister,” went on Shorty hospitably.
“Have an idee the ruin’s cold!’^

“Most certainly,” agreed the
stranger, still .speaking Spani.sh and
obeying Shorty’s gesture. A cascade
of water dropi>ed from his broad-
brimmed Stetson as he removed it,
and rivulets ran from his sodden
goatskin chaps.

“Par’ ’onde estd su caballo?” asked
Rosy. “Where is your horse? I’ll put
it up with our string.”

Rosy understood him to say that
he had lost it. As a matter of fact,-.
the stranger was not easy to under-
stand. The Spanish he spoke was the
lisping Ca.stilian of old Spain, and
the words and construction he used
were equally strange. Even Pedro
for a moment had failed to recog-
nize his mother tongue. On the other
hand, the stranger seemed equally at
fault in understanding them, though
both Americans spoke Mexican Span-
ish nearly as well as English.

The wolves had taken up their
howling again, and seemed to be cir-
cling nearer the bunkhouse.

“Cara jo!” laughed the stranger,
showing his pointed teeth again.
“Harken to the little brethren!”

“The little brethren?” repeated
Pedro, puzzled.

“Of a certainty! The wolves, my
brother. Dost thou not hear them,
also?”

Pedro, like Rosy, drew back. He
had no liking for a man who referred
to wolves as “little brethren”; and
the easy use of the Spanish second
person offended him. A Mexican re-
serves “thou” for his nearest and
dearest.

The stranger noted the backward
step and smiled again, and Pedro
wondered dully how his lips could
be so very red when his skin was so
yellow. Then the black eyes wan-
dered to Rosy and fixed on the cruci-
fix.

RIVER OP LOST SOULS

62 T

“A curious object, friend of mine!
Methinks I have seen its like be-
fore.”

Grasping the meaning rather than
the words of the archaic speech,
Rosy leaned forward that the stran-
ger might examine it the better.

“You would never guess where I
found it,” he said in Spanish. “With
the very much rain, the Picketwire
has flooded and we keep watch here
to prevent the flood from drowning
Diamond Cross cattle. While we rode
the canyon edge today, we found a
body in armor that the water had
washed up. When we reburied it,
this cruciflx dropped from it. The
dead man, no doubt, was a Spanish
conquistador.”

“Perhaps,” observed the stranger,
“this poor fellow was one of those
unfortunate ones for whom the river
was named — Rio de las Animas Per-
didas.”

“ It ’s the Picketwire, ’ ’ said Shorty,
the practical.

“But it used to be the Las Ani-
mas,” argued Rosy, switching to
English. “That’s what the Spanish
called it originally — ^the River of
Damned Souls. Then the French,
with the same idea, called it Le Pur-
» gatoire, and that’s where we get the
name Picketwire.”

Shorty shrugged his shoulders.
Rosy’s high-school diploma had al-
ways held him in awe.

“I never could dope out that
name,” went on Rosy musingly.
“Most people say they called it that
because the canyon’s such a gloomy
place, but sweet cats — it isn’t that
gloomy!”

He broke off abruptly, conscious
of the demands of hospitality.

“You must be very tired,” he con-
tinued in Spanish. “There is an ex-
tra bunk — do us the honor to accept
it.”

The stranger arose and bowed.

“With ten thousand thanks,” he
said.

He reached out to place his hat on

a peg above the fireplace, vfhenee
Pedro had taken a string of garlic
only an hour or two before. With
the hat almost on the peg, the man’s
finger’s twitched as with a sudden
spasm ; the sombrero dropped to the
floor. He recovered it with a smile
and shrug, placing it instead on the
mantel shelf.

Pedro made a muttered exclama-
tion that sounded like ” Santissima
Maria!”

The stranger was the last between
blankets. Rosy watched him idly
from his own bunk, and wondered
at his own distaste in removing the
crucifix about his throat. Another
thought came to him as he watched
the stranger; the man was so out-
rageously awkward in undressing; it
was almost as if he had never worn
a pair of chaps before. And how
emaciated his body was! Then the
steady heat of the rain lulled Rosy off
to sleep.

H e awoke with a start. The rain
had stopped and the moon was
now shining intermittently between
scudding clouds, fitfully illuminating
the cabin’s interior. He awoke with
a vague feeling that something was
wrong.

He turned his head idly, looking
over at Pedro’s bunk, and then his
breath came in with a hiss. Some-
thing was bending over the sleeping
man — something whose face was
pressed to Pedro’s throat — some-
thing —

Stealthily, Rosy slipped his hand
from beneath the blankets and
groped for his gun. It hung in its
holster at the head of his bunk. His
fingers closed tightly around its
smooth black grip.

The thing turned, as if scenting
the presence of danger. It turned its
head toward Rosy — and Rosy’s first
shot went wild. For the squared,
open mouth dripped blood, and a
trickle of blood lay dark against
Pedro’s brown throat.

628

WEIRD TALES

Aud then, even before Rosy could
fire again, the outlines of the thing
became hazy. It seemed to shrink, to
drop on all fours, and a huge wolf,
whose yellowed fangs dripped blood,
crouched snarling across the cabin.

Rosy heard a choking, profane cry
from Shorty, and then the wolf had
leaped at his throat. In a panic he
fired again — fired with his gun-muz-
zle touching the broad, hairy breast.
The .great fangs clicked within an
inch of his throat — and the wolf fell
back.

He fired again — and heard the
crash of Shorty’s thirty-thirty. Bul-
lets ripped the floor, the walls, all
about the wolf. It crouched and
leaped again. But again, as if strik-
ing a stone wall, it was hurled back,
though its fetid breath was hot in
Rosy’s face.

It snarled and leaped for the
barred door. Shorty fii-ed again as it
passed— the bullet chucked into the
opposite wall. And then the wolf was
gone. The door remained closed and
barred.

“It wasn’t — it couldn’t be — it
ain’t ” Shorty was babbling.

“Look!” said Rosy faintly.

He pointed to the stranger’s bunk.
The top blanket was thrown care-
lessly back. But the lower blanket
lay smooth and unwrinkled. There
was no sign that a body had ever lain
there. The stranger’s clothes were
gone. Only his hat still lay on the
mantelpiece.

“Pedro!” yelled Shoi'ty. “He —
he’s ”

But Pedro was not dead. With his
wide eyes sick with horror he lay
w'atching them.

With a shudder. Rosy picked up
the hat on the mantel — and dropped
it as if it had turned suddenly red-
Jiot. From the inner band a series of
marks stared up at him — ^marks that
resolved themselves into a name —
John Miller. Jack Miller, the oAvner
of the neighboring Circle M. — Jack
Miller, who always dressed as if he

were to ride in a rodeo — ^with hair
chaps

“God!” moaned Shorty. “Who —
what was it?”

“Un I'ampiro!” said Pedro in a
voice like a groan. “A vampire from
hell! See, Avas it not that he could
not touch the peg Avhere the garlic
hung? Is not garlic of the most ter-
rible to these things of the night?”

“More than that,” said Rosy.
“Think how he talked — old-fash-
ioned. And in Jack Miller’s clothes.
And his face — wasn’t it familiar? It
Avas — it was the dead man from
PicketAvire Canyon — from the River
of Lost Souls.”

Outside, from down toward the
canyon, the strange, inhuman cry
shidlled and echoed again. And the
howling wolA'es seemed to answer it
in a chorus of glee,

P ADRE RIVAS, the priest of the little
Mexican church at Acequia Negra,
peered out of his Avindow and smiled
in pleased fashion as he recognized
his visitors.

He liked Rosy Dayton. Until Rosy
had come to the Diamond Cross.
Father Rivas had often felt those
years spent in acquiring an educa-
tion Avere largely wasted, if his life
was to be spent among people who
kncAv Cicero onlj'^ as the son of Au-
gustus Mutt. And then, too. Rosy
had never been ImoAvn to refer to a
Mexican as a spig.

But as he opened the door, instant-
ly he knew something was Avrong.
Rosy’s face was haggard, and behind
him Pedro Rivera peered Avith star-
ing eyes, and skin of pasty green.

Rosy seated himself in the priest’s
parlor, and twisted his hat nervously
betAveen his fingers.

“I — I hav'e something to tell you,
padre,” he began nerA'ously. “It —
it’s altogether impossible but — well,

it happened. A — something ”

“Vn demonio!” cried Pedro. “A

very devil from hell ”

“So it was, padre! The devil him-

RIVER OF LOST SOULS

629

self!” And he plunged into a recital
of the night’s events.

“It was Jack Miller’s hat,” he
concluded. “I rode into Sweetwater
this morning and told the deputy
sheriff. They sent a posse around,
and found the body. The — the wolves
had been at it. But — but, padre ;
there was no evidence of blood in the
wounds.” He paused and shuddered.
“And then Pedro and I rode out to
the canyon where we buried — the —
it. The — the grave was empty,
padre.”

The priest sat silent for a moment,
thoughtfully tapping the arm of his
chair.

“To deny that there are literal
devils,” he said at last, “is to deny
the evidence of Holy Writ. Then,
too, it is evident that sacred and holy
things are abhorrent to this creature ;
save for that crucifix you, too, would

have died by — ^^volves. And yet ”

He paused and frowned, and looked
at Pedro.

Pedro’s wits were preternaturally
sharp that morning. He understood
even before Rosy did. His groping
fingei*s delved beneath his shirt and
brought a cross of gold to light.

“Why did it not save Pedro?” fin-
ished the priest. “It can mean but
one thing — it means that only your
particular crucifix has any power
over the thing. May I see it, please?”

Rosy took it from his neck and
passed it to the priest. Rivas exam-
ined it closely and nodded.

“It is of very ancient workman-
ship, and of a curious pattern. They
knew more of such creatures of the
night in those days than we do now.
Perhaps this has a significance that
escapes us. Yet it may be useful in
spite of that.”

“But, padre, what is to be done?”
babbled Pedro.

“Little by our own power; every-
thing by the power of the Lord! Yet
it appears this is no ordinary vam-
pire, who defies the power of cruci-
fixes, and rests in ground not hal-

lowed. You are surprized I know of
this? I read many stories” — he nod-
ded toward a pile of magazines on
the table — “and those stories dealing
with the weird and supernatural I
dote on most. Perhaps now my hobby
shall be turned to account. ’ ’

“But what can we do, padre? No

bullet harms it ”

“A stake through the heart,” said
the priest musingly. “But where
could we find the vampire at rest? A
branch of wild rose, a sacred bullet
— the same objection! Frankly, my
son, I do not know. But let me coun-
sel you thus ; do not tell this story to
others. Your countrymen would
laugh at you. Mine would be panic-
stricken. Silence I impose on you —
both of you!”

“But if they’re not warned ”

“I will take steps. And remember
this, always: even as St. John has
written, ‘Even the devils are subject
to us through Thy name !’ ”

A ngela velez, Angela of the tum-
bled hair and flashing eyes and
slim, brown legs — Angela was doing
the family washing in the little rivu-
let that trickles down from the
Acequia Negra, humming a verse of
El Coyotito as she worked.

“A song veiy beautiful — that,” ob-
served a voice in Spanish from across
the streamlet.

Angela started and looked up. A
tall, bareheaded man stood looking
down at her with a smile — a man
clad in goatskin chaps and a very
torn and dirty shirt, with curious
dark stains down the front of it. In
the shadow of the cedars his eyes
glowed queerly, and his voice had an
odd accent that she understood with
difficulty.

“I am happy that you like my
song,” she said.

“Only beautiful songs could pass
such lips,” said the stranger gal-
lantly. “Is it permitted that I talk
with thee of the near at hand?”

630

WEIRD TALES

Angela looked at Mm carefully,
and found Mm not ill-looking, except
for his sallow skin, slightly wrinkled.
Courtly strangers are rare along the
Picketwire; so:

“The brook is but a narrow one,
seiior.”

Indeed, a man could have crossed
it in a stride with ease, but the
stranger, after half a step forward,
turned and proceeded upstream to
the spring, around wMch he walked
and back down on her side of the
water.

“I,’' he observed, “am Don Diego
Cosme Rosales y Mendoza. And what
might be the name of such a lovely
daughter of old Spain?’’

“I am a daughter of Mexico,” .said
Angela primly, “and my name is
Angela Velez.”

“Mexico !” said Don Diego and his
eyes widened. Then he .smiled as he
added, “Angela! Indeed thou art a
very angel, my dear!”

He paused and straightened in a
listening attitude. The tread of
horses was audible from the cedars
beyond the acequia. Angela arose
and stood beside him watching.

A dusty, weary horse plodded into
sight, with Rosy Dayton astride it.
Angela smiled.

Even as Father Rivas, she liked
Rosy — originally, because he was the
only American at Sweetwater who
called her Angela rather than “Ann-
jelly;” and more recently, with all
the fire of her loyal, coquettish little
Mexican heart.

But now Rosy’s face was strained
and haggard as he rode up and dis-
mounted beside her.

“G-reetings, mi angelita!” he mur-
mured with the travesty of Ms usual
grin. “Have you seen any strangers
about?”

Angela stared at him in surprize
and turned to where Don Diego had
stood a moment before.

A horned toad stared glassily from
the shade of a prickly pear, but of
Don Diego there was no sign.

“Why, where is he?” she ex-
claimed. “Only a moment since — a
most gallant gentleman, Roseo mio.
Don Diego Cosme Rosales y Men-
doza ! ’ ’ She rolled the lordly syllables
on her tongue with delight. “Only a
moment ago he stood there.”

“What did he look like?” asked
Rosy hoarsely.

“Oh, niuy distinguido! Of the most
notable ! But he wore no hat, Roseo.
And his skin was yellowed, but his
lips were, oh, so very red!”

“His face wasn’t wrinkled?”

“But no, Roseo. Of the scarcely at
all.”

“He would be!” muttered Rosy.
“He would be younger!”

“You know him, oh Roseo?”

Rosy looked down at her miser-
ably. No use in spreading panic,
Father Rivas had said. The priest
had a plan of his own. But Angela
— her smooth, brown throat, with the
soft little hollow at its base — and
Don Diego out there in the tangle of
cedars ! Without answering, he
snatched the crucifix from his own
throat and gave it to her.

“Wear that always, angelita!

And ” He paused and looked at

the unfinished washing. “Come, I’ll
help you finish the clothes. This
acequia is no place for you. ’ ’

“But, Roseo — all my life I have
lived in Acequia Negra.”

“But not at the spring,” said
Rosy. ‘ ‘ And it ’s — it ’s different now. ’ ’

But when the washing was fin-
ished, and carried to the adobe house
beyond the cedars, he did not linger.
To Angela’s disappointment, he
mounted and rode hastily away.

Don Diego must be found before
another mght — and what might that
night bring? He had looked fever-
ishly through the magazines Father
Rivas had shown him — through the
book of DracvZa. After all, vaupipires
weren’t invincible. And if the Span-
iard had been in the ricimty so re-
cently, he could scarcely have trav-
eled far — or could he? ‘‘The dead

EIVER OF LOST SOULS

631

travel fast ” Rosy groaned, as

he urged his tired horse past the
spring and up into the mesas beyond.
Then ynth a sudden new idea^ he
circled back toward Acequia Negra.

But Angela was piqued at his
abrupt leaving. He had not so much
as kissed her. Certainly Don Diego
w^ould have been more gallant. And
why had he disappeared so quickly
when Rosy had ridden up? Perhaps
he was still about the spring. She
would go and see. The acequia no
place for her? Nonsense! Rosy must
be jealous. Gurgling happily at the
thought, she slipped back toward the
spring.

And scarcely had she reached it
when Don Diego stood before her as
suddenly as if he had risen from the
earth. The horned toad was gone,
but beside him crouched the tame
coyote of Manuel Garcia; the ani-
mal seemed to combine a curious
mixture of elation and terror.

“Why did you run away?” de-
manded Angela. “Is it that you
fear Senor Itoseo?”

Don Diego ’s red lips smiled, though
his eyes did not.

“I fear no man. But who am I to
intrude between a senorita and her
lover? Behold, he has brought thee a
love token!”

One lean forefinger pointed at the
crucifix about Angela’s throat. She
gurgled happily again.

“He told me to wear it always. Is
it not of the most beautiful?”

“Indeed it is. Come here — ^by the
spring — in the better light, that I
may see it.”

Wonderingly, Angela followed him.
The cedar-shaded spring could scarce-
ly be said to afford better light. Don
Diego’s hand moved toward the
cross, then stopped abruptly.

“Wilt thou not hold it in thy so
small hands, that I may see it more
closely?”

Angela hesitated a moment. Rosy
bad told her to wear it always, but

always hardly meant she might never
remove it, not even for a moment.
She slipped the chain over her head
and extended it in her cupped hands
to Don Diego.

But the Spaniard made no attempt
to touch it; he took a side-step that
brought him to the bank of the
spring, the coyote following close at
his heels. Angela wondered at that,
too; henetofore only Manuel could
control the little wolf.

And then she saw something else,
that sent a little icy trickle down her
spine. The inky surface of the Black
Spring cast back her reflection, from
her tousled hair to her slim ankles —
but of Don Diego beside her it gave
no sign. She looked again. No, there
was no image of Don Diego.

She looked at him with horror-
widening eyes — and the Don’s lips
ceased smiling. He barked some
harsh word, and the coyote leaped.
Straight against her outstretched
arm it sprang, and fell into the water
beyond. And with it went the craci-
fix, the weight of its heavy gold
carrying it like a plummet into the
bottomless black water.

“You — you wizard!” screamed
Angela. “You have lost me the gift
of Roseo !”

With seratehing fingers, she sprang
at the Spaniard’s face. But he
caught her wrists in a grip like steel ;
the strength of twenty men must
have been in his thin hands, icy-cold.

“Yes, my little angel !” he mocked.
“I have lost thee thy charm that
would have bound me to tlie grave
for another three centuries! No, no,
struggle not, little one; the strength
of many men have I, and power such
as no man knows! Supreme am I,
little flower ; supreme and of the most
powerful! Never again can another
crucifix like that one be made. Fra
Domenico made it (may his soul
shrivel!), who knew the lore of the
ancient church and the magic of the
Aztecs. And the Indians Mled Fra
Domenico three hundred years ago!

632

WEIRD TALES

Never again may the might of man

or of " A Name trembled on

his lips that he seemed unable to ut-
ter. “No might in the universe may
prevail against me!" he finished.

He released her wrists and beat
himself upon the chest, and laughed
— a Avild, shrill laugh that the coy-
ote answered with a staccato bark.

“For this purpose the Son of God
■was manifested — that he might de-
stroy the works of the devil!" The
voice, strong and calm, came from
behind them.

At the first words, Don Diego had
whirled and started, as if burned
with a white-hot iron.

Father Rivas stood behind them,
quietly fingering his rosary, with
l^sy beside him.

The don recovered himself.

“Once," he observed, “thy words
would have frightened me, priest.
But no more. Centuries ago, before
the Genoese discovered this land of
thine, I found the secret of immor-
tality. Once, it is true, I was caught
at my rest, and bound to the earth
for a time, yet even Fra Domenico
succeeded only partly. At stated
times, my spirit stepped free from
the body chained by his accursed
arts, and roamed the world again.
Much that I saw I did not under-
stand, much that I heard wms in a
language I do not know'. But this I
learned: there is no power today to
equal mine — nothing may ever de-
stroy me." He paused a moment and
seemed to shiver. “Nothing!" he re-
peated with increased vehemence.

“Except the God you have for-
sworn!”

Don Diego laughed.

“Only by arts that thou or no liv-
ing man knowest, priest. I am su-
preme. Soon thy pale bodies shall be
my founts of life! Thy women" — ^he
paused to eye Angela — “thy women
shall be mine in this life and in life
after the death which is not death!
A new kingdom I shall found "

Rosy’s hand had disappeared in
his pocket. It came forth now, hold-
ing an open clasp-knife. The Count
of Dracula in the story had been
slain with a knife. . . . The Spaniard
watched him with a tolerant smile,
continued smiling even when the
broad blade was buried to the hilt in
his breast.

Rosy spi’ang back panting. He
raised the knife to strike again. The
Don’s ice-cold fingers touched him —
the strength seemed to drain from
his arms.

“It is useless,” said the Spaniard.
“The cleft heart — the severed head —
the driven stake — are for others, biTt
not for me."

“What know you of magic?"
asked the priest scornfully. “What
know you of the magic that can
transport man’s voice across thou-
sands of miles of space; of the magic
that enables man to fly swifter than
the fleetest bird ; that enables him to
stay under water for hours ; that can
in moments slay whole cities or cause
the heart that has stopped to beat
once more?"

Don Diego stared at him intently,
and once more seemed to shiver
slightly.

“It may be as thou sayest," he
nodded, at last. “Indeed, some of it
I kn ow is true. But tell me, oh, priest,
can thy wizai'ds of this day do this?”

As he spoke he glanced up at the
sky. The sun was almost — ^not quite
— at the zenith. His hands made, a
few passes in the air. And the out-
lines of his body grew misty; in a
moment only a wisp of vapor could
be seen floating down toward the
River of Lost Souls, and an eery
laugh seemed to drift back toward
them. The coyote raised its muzzle
and howled quaveringly.

“Yet he is not invincible," said
the priest slowly. “Even as he
boasted, the memory of something
with power to de.stroy him came to
him. ‘For the devils also believe and
tremble.’ "

RIVER OP LOST SOULS

633

“ Tt’s another,” said Rosy hollowly,
A as he dropped heavily into a
chair. Angela leaned over timidly
and stroked his shoulder. “A — a
baby at Bear Springs. Every bit of
blood — gone ”

“Dead?” asked Father Rivas, and
then more slowly: “Undead?”

They were at the Velez ’dobe, he
and Rosy, where Don Diego was seen
most often — ^now a bat that fluttered
at the windows; now a wolf that
howled in the cedars; now a rattle-
snake that basked in the sun, scorn-
ful of rocks hurled at it — or of bul-
lets.

“I can’t go through it again,”
moaned Rosy. “When we — we —
staked — the little boy at Poso — and
the sheep-herder at Lockwood — and
— and Jack ”

“We gave them peace, my son,”
said the priest softly. “It is the work
of God!”

Three weeks had passed with Don
Diego still at large. The Americans
at Sweetwater knew him only as the
murderer of Jack Miller, and pos-
sibly others. What the Mexicans
knew, they did not say, but strings
of garlic hung at door and windows
of every ’dobe, and every brown
throat was encircled by necklaces of
cloves of garlic.

Yet the deaths of three people, and
the mysterious illness of others,
whose blood seemed to drain through
tiny wounds in their throats, had
given them precious clues to the
vampire’s strength and weakness. In
spite of his boasts, he was bound by
some of the laws of the undead. He
cast no shadow or reflection ; he
could not enter a house without
being invited; he could not cross
running water; the presence of gar-
lic banished him. And apparently he
must remain in one form, whatever
it might be, between the hours of
noon and sunset.

“If only,” groaned Rosy, “we
could do something! But we can’t

find a trace of him when he — ^rests—f
and ”

There was a commotion at this
door; Pedro, wild-eyed, stumbled in,
voluble for once from fright.

“I have seen him!” cried the man
wildly. “I have seen him and only
the good God has saved me. Out
there in the mesas — beyond the
spring — he was coming through the
trees — his red eyes burned into me!
Carramba — my feet, they were frozen
— I could not move. He was licking
tho.se lips with that little red tongue
like a serpent ’s. I clutched the garlic
about my throat and trembled. And
then as he stepped between two
trees, entangled he was in a twisting
vine. He jerked, he tugged, he
swore, and as he was on the point of
freeing himself, I became alive again,
and fled from the place!”

The last of it Rosy had scarcely
heard, as an enormous idea took
shape in his mind. No lethal weapon
might harm the Spaniard, but a vine
might ensnare him and hold him
fast. Then perhaps

He arose with a sudden bitter
little laugh.

“Father Rivas said the arm of
God is strong and shall prevail. I
think Don Diego shall change his
mind about the power of God!”

Then his voice altered as he spoke
gently in Spanish.

“Angelita mm, I ask of you a ter-
rible thing. I ask you to risk your
life — and the life after death — and
the soul — to bring Diego back to the
earth from whence he came. Canst
thou do it, mi querida?”

Angela brushed back her tousled
hair as she looked up at him with
wondering eyes. He winced as he
saw how pale and thin she had be-
come in these last days.

“I, Rosco? What is it that I can
do? But, oh, yes, querido mio! My
fault it was for losing the crucifix,”
she choked a little. “My life I wouM
give so gladly to undo that!”

“My fault it was,” said Rosy

WEIRD TALES

(J34

gloomily, “for not replacing the
thing on his cursed body. But, please
God, it ivill be undone. You must go
to the canyon, angelita, and walk
there daily, until he finds you. I will
be hidden close by. And I think —
there is just a chance — ^that he will
never harm people more! But the
garlic you must not wear, for then
he might not come.”

Angela shivered as she stared out
toward the somber Black Spring;
then with a swift motion she tore the
cloves of garlic from her throat.

“Promise me, Roseo,” she almost
whispered, “that if — ^that if — ^Don
Diego succeeds — you will not let me
— ^be as he is! Promise, Roseo mio!”

Rosy closed his eyes. Suppose his
wild guess was wrong — ^in fancy he
could see the red lips grin in triumph
— the squared mouth again dripping
with blood — Angela’s blood. The
thought of a stake plunging through
her soft little body — Rosy choked. And
then another vision — the body of Jack
Miller — ^his friend — of the boy at
Poso — of the sheep-herder — of the
baby at Bear Springs — of all the
other bodies that would follow. . . .

“I promise, angelita — oh, carissima
mia!” And he held her tightly as if
to defy the power of Don Diego to
snatch her from him.

Dimly he was aware that the arms
of Father Rivas were around them
both.

A ngela stood tense by the edge of
the canyon. The sun was sinking
— in a few minutes all the forces of
evil would be Don Diego’s. If Rosy
failed — she shivered as she moved
nearer the canyon’s rim.

Close beside her a tortuous trail
led down to the river, but just at her
feet the canyon wall dropped sheer,
in a dizzy precipice. If Rosy failed —
down there would be peace — and rest
that the vampire might not break.

Father Rivas was back there, too,
she knew, a crucifix clutched in his
hand, and prayers mounting desper-

ately to his lips. He had said the
great God would protect her — but
would Hef She turned her face up
to the magnificence of the sunset sky.
Would He Who moved sun and stars
pause to pity her — ^the little Mexican
girl — ^the spig? She looked back
toward Sweetwater — where the wise
Americanos laughed at spig supersti-
tions — ^the wise Americanos for whom
she was offering to die. . . .

“Evening greetings, little flower!”
The don’s deep voice boomed in her
ear. She looked up into a face that
had grown twenty years younger in
a month. “I feared it was that thou
liked me not, yet here I see thee to
meet me. A blessed day, little one.”

Father Rivas, back among the
trees, had thrilled. He alone had
seen Don Diego plod up the steep
trail from the canyon’s bottom.
Their surmise was right! Superior
though he was to stake or knife or
crucifix, yet one law of the undead
still bound him. Caught at noon in
the form of man, a man he must re-
main until sunset, for he would
scarcely climb that weary trail if he
might fly as a bat or float up as a
wisp of vapor.

But where was Rosy? Angela was
shrinking back from the vampire’s
embrace. She seemed like a bird the
priest had once seen charmed by a
rattler. Where wms the thud of
horse’s hoofs? Only the barking of
a prairie-dog broke the silence.

The priest darted forward, the
crucifix held out before him. He
snatched Angela almost from the
Spaniard’s arms — stood at bay be-
tween them. The Spaniard smiled
faintly.

“A good evening to thee, priest.
What is that toy thou hast there ? ’ ’

“Back to your grave!” cried the
priest. “Unclean! Ye are of your
father, the devil! Back, I say!”

“Once before I told thee thy” —
the vampire faltered — “thy Master
is powerless. Proof I shall give thee
when yonder sun sets in ”

RIVEE OF LOST SOULS

635

There was a clatter of hoofs on the
stones. Something long and black
and snaky whirled and hissed
through the air. The noose of a raw-
hide I’iata settled about Don Diego’s
shoulders.

All in a second, Rosy’s trained
pony whirled off at right angles.
Even the enormous strength of the
vampire could not withstand the
ru.sh and plunge of the galloping
horse. He Avas hurled off his feet,
battered against the rocks, as his
body bounced and dashed at the end
of tlie riata. Rosy spurred down the
canyon trail.

Angela’s scream was drowned in
the torrent of oaths that poured
from the struggling Spaniard’s lips.
His hands caught the riata; hauled
on it with terrible strength. But the
strength of fifty men could not have
snapped that plaited rawhide.

From rock to rock he bounced,
down to the River of Lost Souls. It
seemed his bones must be shattered,
yet somehow he struggled to his feet
as they reached the canyon ’s bottom.

The flood waters had passed away.
The rh^er Avas now in its normal
state, two trickling rivulets in a
Avaste of gravel and sand. Almost
overnight Aveeds and grass had
sprung up in the river bed — except
in one patch of raw, red sand — bar-
ren and' sinister.

DoAvn the river-bed Rosy galloped,
his horse laboring against the vam-
pire’s strength, that equaled a score
of men. Not for a moment must Don
Diego be allowed to gain firm foot-
ing.

Noav they Avere opposite that bar-
ren spot of sand- itosy touched one
spur to his horse. It whirled in its
tracks. Like the lash of a cracking
whip, Don Diego was flung about.
Out from the clean grass he was
hurled onto the blood-red sand.

Rosy touched the reins, and the
horse plowed to a stop. With his
face stony-hard as the rocks of the
canyon, he opened a clasp-knife. The

riata hummed like a violin-string as
it parted. Don Diego floundered to
his knees.

From the canyon’s brim, Angela
and Father Rivas saAv liim arise, but
noAV he AA’^as in to his ankles. And
even as they Avatehed him plunge and
flounder, he sank to his knees.

In that instant some hint of his
fate seemed to dawn on the Spaniard.
He screamed terribly, as he clawed
desperately at the slack raAvhide. He
exerted all his enormous strength —
and sank to his waist.

His hands moved in the air, mak-
ing frenzied passes. His reddening
eyes rolled up to the .sun that
hovered over the canyon’s rim.

Then he screamed again — the
scream of a lost soul that looks into
hell.

“SaA’e me!” he screamed. “SaA’e
me! I Avill not harm thee! I prom-
ise — the Avord of a peer of Spain! I
will depart from here — I will i*eturn
to Castille ”

The trio of watchers remained
silent.

“I Avill make you rich!” he
screamed as the red sand reached to
his breast. “I know the hiding-place
of the canyon’s gold! Yellow gold —
bullion — ^twelve great chests full !
All for you — if you but saA'e me!”

And Avhen they still made no an-
swer, he cursed them Avildly.

“May your souls shrivel, as Avill
my body! Locked in this accursed
sand — for all time to come — the
thirst — ^the torture ”

He clutched at his throat. He
clawed at the sand. Suddenly he
seemed very small and pitiful. They
wondered Avhy they had feared him.
Angela moved as if she would de-
scend to help him. Father Rivas,
granite-jawed, stopped her.

Then a gleam of triumph came into
the I’cd eyes. The sAin sank behind
the canyon’s rim. His arms waved
again, making passes in the air.

As once before, the outlines of his
head and waving arms grew misty.

636

WEIRD TALES

All else lay beneath the sand. And
then a wisp of vapor hovered in the
air where he had been.

“Oh, God!” praj^ed the priest, his
knuckles white as he clutched the

cross. “Oh, God, do not permit ”

He broke off, then raised his voice in
a great shout. “I thank Thee, oh, my
God — I thank Thee ”

Par below, the wisp of vapor was
disappearing in the sand, being
sucked inexorably downi, attached

unbreakably to that which lay be-
neath. It twisted and struggled in
the failing light, and then it was
gone.

The red sand lay desolate and bar-
ren as before, as Rosy rode back up
the canyon. Angela was running to
meet him.

And a vagrant wind chuckled as if
in glee among the cedars, for the
River of Lost Souls had reclaimed its
own, never to loose it more.

MARMORA

By DONALD WANDREI

Out of the west, foul breezes sweep.

Out of the dark where the black moons creep.
With the breath of the web-faced things asleep
In Marmora.

A ruby flares in the glistening sky.

In the marble palace, gold dwarfs cry,
Long-dead creatures murmur and sigh
In Marmora.

In a marsh that even the water-snakes spurn.
Mandrakes writhe and witch-fires bum,

Swart talons toward the ruby tiun.

In Marmora,

All night the blood-red ruby glares.

Before the palace a beacon flares.

But the spell-bound half-beasts lie in their lairs
In Marmom.

Out of the sky, a black star shines.

From the palace, a marble monster whines.

On tlie throne a king for its worm-queen pines
In Marmora.

Smooth is the liquid ink of the lake.

On its shore, mad emeralds burn in the brake,
A slain man moans on a pointed stake
In Marmora.

T he following narrative was
found among the papers of
Christophe Morand, a young
law-student of Tours, after his unac-
countable disappearance during a
visit at his father’s home near Mou-
lins, in November, 1789:

A sinister brownish-purple autumn
twilight, made premature by the im-
minence of a sudden thunderstorm,
had filled the forest of Averoigne.
The trees along my road were al-
ready blurred to ebon masses, and
the road itself, pale and spectral be-
fore me in the thickening gloom,
seemed to waver and quiver slightly,
as with the tremor of some mysteri-
ous earthquake. I spurred my horse.

who was w'ofuUy tired with a jour-
ney begun at dawn, and had fallen
hours ago to a protesting and reluc-
tant trot, and we galloped ado^vn the
darkening road between enormous
oaks that seemed to lean toward us
with boughs like clutching fingers as
we passed.

With dreadful rapidity, the night
was upon us, the blackness became a
tangible clinging veil; a nightmare
confusion and desperation drove me
to spur my mount again with a more
cruel rigor; and now, as we went, the
first far-off mutter of the storm min-
gled with the clatter of my horse’s
hoofs, and the first lightning flashes
illumed our way, which, to my

638

WEIRD TALES

amazement (since I believed myself
on the main highway through Aver-
oigne), had inexplicably narrowed to
a well-trodden footpath. Feeling
sure that I had gone astray, but not
caring to retrace my steps in the
teeth of darkness and the towering
clouds of the tempest, I hurried on,
hoping, as seemed reasonable, that a
path so plainly worn would lead
eventually to some house or chateau
where I could find refuge for the
night. My hope was well-founded,
for within a few minutes I descried a
glimmering light through the forest-
boughs, and came suddenly to an
open glade, where, on a gentle emi-
nence, a large building loomed, with
several litten windows in the lower
story, and a top that was well-nigh
indistinguishable against the. bulks
of driven cloud.

“Doubtless a monastery,” I
thought, as I drew rein, and descend-
ing from my exhausted mount, lifted
the heavy brazen knocker in the form
of a dog’s head and let it fall on the
oaken door. The sound was unex-
pectedly loud and sonorous, with a
reverberation almost sepulchral, and
I shivered involuntarily, with a sense
of startlement, of unwonted dismay.
This, a moment later, was wholly dis-
sipated when the door was thrown
open and a tall, ruddy-featured monk
stood before me in the cheerful glow
of the cressets that illumed a capa-
cious hallway.

“1 bid you welcome to the abbey
,of Perigon,” he said, in a suave rum-
ble, and even as he spoke, another
robed and hooded figure appeared
and took my horse in charge. As I
murmured my thanks and acknowl-
edgments, the storm broke and tre-
mendous gusts of rain, accompanied
by ever-nearing peals of thunder,
drove with demoniac fury on the
door that had closed behind me.

“It is fortunate that you found us
when you did,” observed my host.
“ 'Twere ill for man and beast to be
abroad in such a hell-brew.”

Divining without question that I

was hungry as well as tired, he led
me to the refectory and set before
me a bountiful meal of mutton,
brown bread, lentils, and a strong
excellent red wine.

He sat opposite me at the refec-
tory table while I ate, and, with my
hunger a little mollified, I took occa-
sion to scan him more attentively. He
was both tall and stoutly built, and
his features, where the brow was no
less broad than the powerful jaw, be-
tokened intellect as well as a love
for good living. A certain delicacy
and refinement, an air of scholarship,
of good taste and good breeding,
emanated from him, and I thought
to myself: “This monk is probably a
connoisseur of books as well as of
wines.” Doubtless my expression be-
trayed the quickening of my curi-
osity, for he said, as if in answer:

“I am Hilaire, the abbot of Peri-
gon. We are a Benedictine order,
who live in amity with God and with
aU men, and we do not hold that the
spirit is to be enriched by the morti-
fication or impoverishment of the
body. We have in our butteries an
abundance of wholesome fare, in our
cellars the best and oldest vintages
of the district of Averoigne. And, if
such things interest you, as mayhap
they do, we have a library that is
stocked with rare tomes, with pre-
cious manuscripts, with the finest
works of heathendom and Christen-
dom, even to certain unique writings
that survived the holocaust of Alex-
andria.”

“I appreciate your hospitality,” I
said, bowing. “I am Christophe Mo-
rand, a law-student, on my way
home from Tours to my father’s
estate near Moulins. I, too, am a
lover of books, and nothing would
delight me more than the privilege
of inspecting a library so rich and
curious as the one whereof you
speak.”

Forthwith, while I finished my
meal, we fell to discussing the clas-
sics, and to quoting and capping pas-
sages from Latin, Greek, or Christian

THE END OF THE STORY

639

authors. My host, I soon discovered,
was a scholar of uncommon attain-
ments, with an erudition, a ready
familiai’ity with both ancient and
modern literature that made my own
seem as that of the merest beginner
by comparison. He, on his part, was
so good as to commend my far from
perfect Latin, and by the time I had
emptied my bottle of red wine we
were chatting familiarly like old
friends.

All my fatigue had now flown, to
be succeeded by a rare sense of well-
being. of physical comfort combined
with mental alertness and keenness.
So, when the abbot suggested that
we pay a visit to the library, I as-
sented with alacrity.

H e led me down a long corridor,
on each side of which were cells
belonging to the brothers of the or-
der, and unlocked, with a large
brazen key that depended from his
girdle, the door of a great room with
lofty ceiling and several deep-set
windows. Truly, he had not ex-
aggerated the resources of the li-
brary; for the long shelves were
overcrowded with books, and many
volumes were piled high on the tables
or stacked in corners. There were
rolls of papyrus, of parchment, of
vellum; there w'ere strange Byzan-
tine or Coptic bibles; thei’e were old
Arabic and Persian manuscripts with
floriated or jewel-studded covers;
there were scoi’es of incunabula from
the first printing-presses ; there were
innumerable monkish copies of an-
tique authors, bound in wood or
ivory, with rich illuminations and
lettering that wms often in itself a
Avork of art.

With a care that was both loving
and meticulous, the abbot Hilaire
brought out volume after volume for
my inspection. Many of them I had
never seen before; some were un-
known to me even by fame or rumor.
My excited interest, my unfeigned
enthusiasm, evidently pleased him.

for at length he pressed a hidden
spring in one of the library tables
and drew out a long drawer, in
which, he told me, were certain treas-
ures that he did not care to biung
forth for the edification or delecta-
tion of many, and whose veiy exist-
ence was undreamed of by the monks.

“Here,” he continued, “are three
odes by Catullus which you Avill not
find in any published edition of his
works. Here, also, is an original
manuscript of Sappho — a complete
copy of a poem otherwise extant
only in brief fragments; here are
two of the lost tales of Miletus, a
letter of Pericles to Aspasia, an un-
known dialogue of Plato, and an old
Arabian work on astronomy, by some
anonymous author, in which the the-
ories of Copernicus are anticipated.
And, lastly, hei'e is the somewhat
infamous Ilistoire d’ Amour, by Ber-
nard de Vaillantcoeur, whicli was de-
stroyed immediately upon publica-
tion, and of Avhich only one other copy
is known to exist.”

As I gazed with mingled awe and
curiosity on the unique, unheard-of
treasures he displayed, I saw in one
corner of the drawer what appeared
to be a thin volume with plain un-
titled binding of dark leather. I ven-
tured to pick it up, and found that
it contained a few sheets of closely
written manuscript in old French.

“And this?” I queried, turning to
look at Hilaire, whose face, to my
amazement, had suddenly assumed a
melancholy and troubled expression.

“It Avei’e better not to ask, my
son. ’ ’ He crossed himself as he spoke,
and his voice was no longer mellow,
but harsh, agitated, full of a sorrow-
ful perturbation. “There is a curse
on the pages that you hold in your
hand: an evil spell, a malign power
is attached to them, and he who
would venture to peruse them is
henceforward in dire peril both of
body and soul.” He took the little
volume from me as he spoke, and re-

640

WEIED TALES

turned it to the drawor, again cross-
ing himself carefully as he did so.

“But, father,” I dared to expostu-
late, “how can such things be? How
can there be danger in a few written
sheets of parchment?”

“Chiistopfae, there are things be-
yond your understanding, things
that it were not well for you to
know. The might of Satan is mani-
festable in devious modes, in diverse
manners ; thei*e are other tempta-
tions than those of the world and the
flesh, there are evUs no less subtle
than irresistible, there are hidden
heresies, and necromancies other
than those which sorcerers practise.”

“With what, then, are .these pages
concerned, that such occult peril,
such unholy power lurks within
them?”

“I forbid you to ask.” His tone
was one of great rigor, with a finali-
ty that dissuaded me from further
questioning.

“For you, my son,” he went on,
“the danger would be doubly great,
because you are young, ardent, full
of desires and curiosities. Believe me,
it is better to forget that you have
even seen this manuscript.” He
closed the hidden drawer, and as he
did so, the melancholy troubled look
was replaced by his former benign-
ity.

“Now,” he said, as he turned to
one of the book-shelves, “I will show
you the copy of Ovid that was owned
by the poet Petrarch.” He was
again the mellow scholar, the kindly,
jovial host, and it was evident that
the mysterious manuscript was not
to be referred to again. But his odd
perturbation, the dark and awful
hints he had let fall, the vague ter-
rific teiins of his proscription, had all
served to awaken my wildest curios-
ity, and, though I felt the obsession
to be unreasonable, I was quite un-
able to think of anything else for the
rest of the evening. All manner of
speculations, fantastic, absurd, out-
rageous, lu^crous, terrible, defiled

through my brain as I duly admired
the incunabula which Hilaire took
down so tenderly from the shelves
for my delectation.

At last, toward midnight, he led
me to my room — a room especially
reserved for visitors, and with more
of comfort, of actual luxury in its
hangings, carpets and deeply quilted
bed than was allowable in the cells
of the monks or of the abbot himself.
Even when Hilaire had withdrawn,
and I had proved for my satisfaction
the softness of the bed allotted me,
my brain still whirled with questions
concerning the forbidden manu-
script. Though the storm had now
ceased, it was long before I fell
asleep; but slumber, when it finally
came, was dreamless and profound.

W HEN I awoke, a river of sun-
shine clear as moltexi gold was
pouring through my window. The
storm had wholly vanished, and no
lightest tatter of cloud was visible
anywhere in the pale-blue October
heavens. I ran to the window and
peered out on a world of autumnal
forest and fields all a-sparkle with
the diamonds of rain. All was beauti-
ful, all was idyllic to a degree that
could be fully appi’eeiated only by
one who had lived for a long time,
as I had, within the walls of a city,
with towered buildings in lien of
trees and cobbled pavements where
grass should be. But, charming as it
was, the foreground held my gaze
only for a few moments; then, be-
yond the tops of the trees, I saw a
hill, not more than a mile distant, on
whose summit there stood the mins
of some old chateau, the crumbling,
broken-down condition of whose
walls and towers was plainly visible.
It drew my gaze irresistibly, with an
overpowering sense of romantic at-
traction, which somehow seemed so
natui’al, so inevitable, that I did not
pause to analyze or wonder ; and
once having seen it, I could not take
my eyes away, but lingered at the

THE END OP THE STORY

641

window for how long I knew not,
scrutinizing as closely as I could the
details of each time-shaken turret
and bastion. Some undefinable fasci-
nation was inherent in the very form,
the extent, the disposition of the
pile — some fascination not dissimilar
to that exerted by a srain of music,
by a magical combination of words
in poetry, by the features of a be-
loved face. Gazing, I lost myself in
reveries that I could not recall after-
ward, but which left behind them the
same tantalizing sense of innominable
delight which forgotten nocturnal
dreams may sometimes leave.

I was recalled to the actualities of
life by a gentle knock at my door,
and realized that I had forgotten to
dress myself. It was the abbot, who
came to inquire how I had passed the
night, and to tell me that breakfast
was ready w'henever I should care to
arise. For some reason, I felt a little
embaiTassed, even shamefaced, to
have been caught day-dreaming ;
and, though this was doubtless un-
neeessaiy, I apologized for my dila-
toriness. Hilaire, I thought, gave me
a keen, inquiring look, which was
quickly withdrawn, as, with the
suave courtesy of a good host, he as-
sured me that there was nothing
whatever for which I need apologize.

When I had breakfasted, I told
Hilaire, with many expressions of
gratitude for Ms hospitality, that it
was time for me to resume my jour-
ney. But his regret at the announce-
ment of my departure was so un-
feigned, his invitation to tarry for
at least another night was so genu-
inely hearty, so sincerely urgent,
that I consented to remain. In
truth, I required no great amount of
solicitation, for, apart from the real
liking I had taken to Hilaire, the
mystery of the forbidden manuscript
had entirely enslaved my imagina-
tion, and I was loth to leave without
having learned more concerning it.
Also, for a youth with scholastic
leanings, the freedom of the abbot’s

library was a rare privilege, a pre-
cious opportunity not to be passed
over.

‘‘I should like,” I said, “to pursue
certain studies while I am here, with
the aid of your mcomparable collec-
tion.”

“My son, you are more than wel-
come to remain for any length of
time, and you can have access to my
books whenever it suits your need or
inclination.” So saying, Hilaire de-
tached the key of the library from
his girdle and gave it to me. “There
are duties,” he went on, “which
will call me away from the monas-
tery for a few hoxirs today, and
doubtless you will desire to study in
my absence. ’ ’

A little later, he excused himself
and departed. With inward felicita-
tions on the longed-for opportunity
that had fallen so readily into my
hands, I hastened to the library, with
no thought save to read the pro-
.scribed manuscript. Giving scarcely
a glance at the laden shelves, I
sought the table with the secret
drawer, and fumbled for the spring.
After a little anxious delay, I pressed
the proper spot and drew forth the
drawer. An impulsion that had be-
come a veritable obsession, a fever of
curiosity that bordei’cd upon actual
madness, drove me, and if the safety
of my soul had really depended
upon it, I could not have denied the
desire which forced me to take from
the drawer the thin volume with
plain unlettered binding.

S EATING myself in a chair near one
of the ivindows, I began to peruse
the pages, which were only six in
number. The writing was peculiar,
with letter-forms of a fantasticality
I had never met before, and the
French was not only old but weU-
nigh barbarous in its quaint sin^i-
larity. Notwithstanding the diffi-
culty I found in deciphering them, a
mad, unnaccountable thrill ran
through me at the first words, and I

642

WEIRD TALES

read on with all the sensations of a
man who has been bewitched or who
has drunken a philtre of bewildering
potency.

There was no title, no date, and
fthe writing was a narrative which
began almost as abruptly as it ended.
It concerned one Gei'ard, Comte de
Venteillon, who, on the eve of his
marriage to the renowned and beau-
tiful demoiselle, Eleanor des Lys,
had met in the forest near his cha-
teau a strange, half-human creature
with hoofs and horns. Now Gerard,
as the narrative explained, was a
knightly youth of indisputably
proven valor, as well as a true Chris-
tian; so, in the name of our Savior,
Jesus Christ, he bade the creature
stand and give an account of itself.

Laughing wildly in the twilight,
the bizarre being capered before him,
and cried :

“I am a satyr, and your Christ is
less to me than the weeds that grow
on your kitchen-middens.”

Appalled by such blasphemy, Ge-
rard would have drawm his sword to
slay the creature, but again it cried,
saying :

“Stay, Gerard de Venteillon, and
I will tell you a secret, knowing
which, you will forget the worship
of Christ, and forget your beautiful
bridec of tomorrow, and turn your
back on the world and on the very
sun itself with no I’eluetance and no
regret.”

Now, albeit half unwillingly, Ge-
rard lent the satyr an ear and it came
closer and whispered to him. And
that which it whispered is not
known; but before it vanished amid
the blackening shadows of the for-
est, the satyr spoke aloud once more,
and said :

“The power of Christ has pre-
vailed like a black frost on all the
woods, the fields, the rivers, the
mountains, where abode in their fe-
licity the glad, immortal goddesses
and nymphs of yore. But still, in the
cryptic caverns of earth, in places

far underground, like the hell your
priests have fabled, there dwells the
pagan loveliness, there cry the pagan
ecstasies.” And with the last words,
the creature laughed again its wild
unhuman laugh, and disappeared
among the darkening boles of the
twilight trees.

From that moment, a change was
upon Gerard de Venteillon. He re-
turned to his chateau with downcast
mien, speaking no cheery or kindly
word to his retainers, as was his
wont, but sitting or pacing always in
silence, and scarcely heeding the
food that was set before him. Nor
did he go that evening to visit his
betrothed, as he had promised; but,
toward midnight, when a waning
moon had arisen red as from a bath
of blood, he went forth clandestinely
by the postern door of the chateau,
and following an. old, half-obliter-
{ated trail through the woods, found
his way to the ruins of the Chateau
des Faussesflammes, which stands on
a hill opposite the Benedictine abbey
of Perigon.

Now these ruins (said the manu-
script) are very old, and have long
been avoided by the people of the
district; for a legendry of immemo-
rial evil clings about them, and itjs
said that they are the dwelling-place
of foul spirits, the rendezvous of
sorcerers and suceubi. But Gerard,
as if oblivious or fearless of their ill
renown, plunged like one who is
devil-driven into the shadow of the
crumbling walls, and went, with the
careful groping of a man who fol-
lows some given direction, to the
northern end of the courtyard. There,
directly between and below the two
eentermost windows, which, it may
be, looked forth from the chamber of
forgotten chatelaines, he pressed
with his right foot on a flagstone dif-
fering from those about it in being
of a triangular form. And the flag-
stone moved and tilted beneath his
foot, revealing a flight of granite
steps that went down into the earth.

THE END OF THE STORY

643

Then, lighting a taper he had brought
with him, Gerard descended the
steps, and the flagstone swung into
place behind him.

On the morrow, his betrothed,
Eleanor des Lys, and all her bridal
train, waited vainly for him at the
cathedi-al of Vyones, the principal
town of Averoigne, where the wed-
ding had been set. And from that
time his face was beheld by no man,
and-no vaguest rumor of Gerard de
Venteillon or of the fate that befell
him has ever passed among the liv-
ing. . . .

Such was the substance of the for-
bidden manuscript, and thus it end-
ed. As I have said before, there was
no date, nor was there anything to
indicate by whom it had been writ-
ten or how the knowledge of the
happenings related had oome into the
writer ’s possession. But, oddly enough,
it did not occur to me to doubt their
veridity for a moment; and the cu-
riosity I had felt concerning the
contents of the manuscript was now
replaced by a burning desire, a thou-
sandfold more powerful, more obses-
sive, to know the ending of the story
and to learn what Gerard de Venteil-
lon had foimd when he descended the
hidden steps.

In reading the tale, it had of course
occurred to me that the ruins of the
Chateau des Faussesflammes, de-
scribed therein, were the very same
ruins I had seen that morning from
my chamber window; and pondering
this, I became more and more pos-
sessed by an insane fever, by a frenet-
ic, unholy excitement. Returning the
manuscript to the secret drawer, I
left the library and wandered for
awhile in an aii^ess fashion about the
corridors of the monastery. Chancing
to meet there the same monk who had
taken my horse in charge the previous
evening, I ventured to question him,
as discreetly and casually as I could,
regarding the ruins which were visible
fiw the abbey windows.

He crossed himself, and a fright-

ened look came over his broad, placid
face at my query.

‘ ‘ The ruins are those of the Chateau
des Faussesflammes,” he replied. “For
untold years, men say, they have been
the haunt of unholy spirits, of witches
and demons; and festivals not to be
described or even named are held
within their walls. No weapon known
to man, no exorcism or holy water,
has ever prevailed against these de-
mons; many brave cavaliers and
monfe have disappeared amid the
shadows of Faussei^ammes, never to
return; and once, it is told, an abbot
of Perigon went thither to make war
on the powers of evil ; but what befell
him at the hands of the succubi is not
known or conjectured. Some say that
the demons are abominable hags whose
bodies terminate in serpentine coils;
others, that they are women of more
than mortal beauty, whose kisses are
a diabolic delight that consumes the
flesh of men with the fierceness of
hell-fire. ... As for me, I know not
whether such tales are true; but I
should not care to venture within the
walls of Faussesflammes.”

Before he had finished speaking, a
resolve had sprung to life full-bom in
my mind : I felt that I must go to the
Chateau des Faussesflammes and
learn for myself, if possible, all that
could be learned. The impulse was im-
mediate, overwhelming, ineluctable ;
and even if I had so desired, I could
no more have fought against it than
if I had been the victim of some sor-
cerer’s invultuation. The proscrip-
tion of the abbot Hilaire, the strange
unfinished tale in the old manuscript,
the evil legendry at which the monk
had now hinted — all these, it would
seem, should have served to frighten
and deter me from such a resolve;
but, on the contrary, by some bizarre
inversion of thought, they seemed to
conceal some delectable mystery, to
denote a hidden world of ineffable
things, of vague undreamabfe pleas-
ures that set my brain on fire and
made my pulses throb deliriously. I

614

WEIRD TALES

idid not know, I could not conceive, of
what these pleasures would consist;
but in some mystical manner I was as
sure of their ultimate reality as the
abbot Hilaire was sure of heaven.

I determined to go that verj" after-
noon, in the absence of Hilaire, who,
I felt instinctively, might be suspi-
cious of any such intention on my
part and would surely be inimical
towaixi its fulfilment.

My preparations were very simple :
I put in my pockets a small taper
from my room and the heel of a loaf
of bread from the refectoiy ; and mak-
ing sure that a little dagger which I
alwaj's carried was in its sheath, I
left the monastery forthwith. Meet-
ing two of the brothers in the court-
yard, I told them I was going for a
short walk in the neighboring w'oods.
They gave me a jovial “pax vohis-
cum” and went upon their w'ay in
the spirit of the words.

H eading as directly as I could for
Paussesflammes, whose turrets
were often lost behind the high and
interlacing boughs, I entered the for-
est. There were no paths, and often I
was compelled to brief detours and
divagations by the thickness of the
underbrush. In my fevereus hurry to
reach the ruins, it seemed hours be-
fore I came to the top of the hill which
Faussesfiammes surmounted, but prob-
ably it was little more than thirty
minutes. Climbing the last declivity
of the boulder-strewn slope, I came
suddenly withhi view of the chateau,
standing close at hand in the center
of the level table which formed the
summit. Trees had taken root in its
broken-down walls, and the ruinous
gateway that gave on the courtyard
was half-chok^ by bushes, brambles
and nettle-plants. Porcmg my way
Ithrough, not without difficulty, and
with clothing that had suffered from
the bramble-thorns, I ^vent, like Ge-
rard de Venteillon in the old manu-
ecript, to the northern end of the
court. Enormous evil-looking weeds

were rooted between the flagstones,
rearing their thick and fleshy leaves
ithat had turned to dull sinister ma-
roons and purples with the onset of
autumn. But I soon found the tri-
angular flagstone indicated in the
tale, and without the slightest delay,
or hesitation I pressed upon it with
my right foot.

A mad shiver, a thrill of adventur-
ous triumph that was mingled with
something of trepidation, leaped
through me when the great flagstone
tilted easily beneath my foot, disclos-
ing dark steps of granite, even as in
the story. Now, for a moment, the
vaguely hinted horrors of the monk-
ish legends became imminently real
in my imagination, and I paused be-
fore the black opening that was to en-
igulf me, wondering if some satanic
spell had not drawn me thither to
perils of unknown terror and incon-
ceivable gravity.

Only for a few instants, howevei’,
did I hesitate. Then the sense of peril
faded, the monkish horrors became a
fantairtic dream, and the charm of
things unformulable, but ever closer
at hand, always more readily attain-
able, tightened about me like the em-
brace of amorous arms. I lit my taper,
I descended the stair; and even as
behind Gerard de Venteillon, the tri-
angular block of stone silently re-
sumed its place in the paving of the
court above me. Doubtless it was
moved by some mechanism operable
by a man’s weight on one of the steps ;
but I did not pause to consider its
modus operandi, or to wonder if there
were any way by which it could be
worked from beneath to permit my
return.

There were perhaps a dozen steps,
terminating in a low, narrow, musty
vault that was void of anything more
substantial than ancient, dust-encum-
bered cobwebs. At the end, a small
idooiway admitted me to a second
vault that differed from the first only
in being larger and dustier. I passed
through several such vaults, and then

THE END OP THE STORY

645

found myself in a long passage or
tunnel, half blocked in places by
bouldei's or heaps of rubble that had
fallen from the crumbling sides. It
was very damp, and full of the noi-
some odor of stagnant waters and
subterranean mold. My feet splashed
more than once in little pools, and
drops fell upon me from above, fetid
and foul as if they had oozed frdm a
chainel. Beyond the wavering Circle
of light that my taper maintained, it
seemed to me that the coils of dim and
shadowy serpents slithered away in
the darkness at my approach; but I
could not be sure whether they really
were serpents, or only the troubled
and retreating shadows, seen by an
eye that was still unaccustomed to the
gloom of the vaults.

Rounding a sudden turn in the pas-
sage, I saw the last thing I had dreamt
of seeing — the gleam of sunlight at
what was apparently the tunnel’s end.
I scarcely know what I had expected
to find, but such an eventuation was
.somehow altogether unanticipated. I
hurided. on, in some confusion of
thought, and stumbled through the
opening, to find myself blinking in
the full rays of the sun.

Even befoi'e I had sufficiently re-
covered my wits and my eyesight to
take note of the landscape before me,
I was struck by a strange circum-
stance : Though it had been early af-
ternoon when I entered the vaults,
and though my passage through them
could have been a matter of no more
than a few minutes, the sun was now
nearing the horizon. There was also
a difference in its light, which was
both brighter and mellower than the
sun I had seen above Averoigne ; and
the sky itself was intensely blue, with
no hint of autumnal pallor.

Now, with ever-increasing stupe-
faction, I stared about me, and could
find nothing familiar or even credible
in the scene upon which I had
emerged. Contrary to all reasonable
expectation, there was no semblance
of the hill upon which Paussesflammes

stood, or of the adjoining country;
but around me was a placid land of
rolling meadows, through which a
golden-gleaming river meandered
toward a sea of deepest azure that
was visible beyond the tops of laurel-
trees. . . . But there are no laurel-
trees in Averoigne, and the sea is hun-
dreds of miles away: judge, then, my
complete confusion and dumfound-
ineut.

It was a scene of such loveliness as
I have never before beheld. The
meadow-grass at my feet was softer
and more lustrous than emerald vel-
vet, and was full of violets and many-
colored asphodels. The dark green of
ilex-trees was mirrored in the golden
river, and far away I saw the pale
gleam of a marble acropolis on a low
summit above the plain. All things
bore the aspect of a mild and clement
spring that was vferging upon an
opulent summer. I felt as if I had
stepped into a land of classic myth,
of Grecian legend; and moment by
?noment, all surprize, all wonder as to
how I could have come there, was
drowned in a sense of ever-growing
ecstasy before the utter, ineffable
beauty of the landscape.

Near by, in a laurel-grove, a white
roof shone in the late raj’s of the sun.
I was dmvn toward it bj' the same
allurement, only far more potent and
urgent, which I had. felt on seeing the
forbidden manuscript and the ruins
of Paussesflammes. Ilere, 1 knew with
an esoteric certainty, Avas the culmi-
nation of my quest, the reward of all
my mad and perhaps impious curi-
osity.

As I entered the grove, I heard
laughter among the trees, blending
hamoniously Avith the Ioav munnur
of their leaves in a soft, balmy Avind.
I thought I saAv vague forms that
melted among the boles at my ap-
proach; and once a shaggy, goat-like
ei’eature with human head and body
ran across my path, as if in pursuit
of a flying nymph.

646

WEIRD TALES

I N THE heart of the grove, I found
a marble palace with a portico of
Doric columns. As I neared it, I was
greeted by two women in the costume
of ancient slaves ; and though my
Greek is of the meagerest, I found no
difficulty whatever in comprehendmg
their speech, which was of Attic pur-
ity.

“Our mistress, Nycea, awaits you,”
they told me. I could no longer mar-
vel at anything, but accepted my situ-
ation without question or surmise, like
one who resigns himself to the prog-
ress of some delightful dream. Prob-
ably, I thought, it was a dream, and
I was still lying in ray bed at the
monastery; but never before had I
been favored by nocturnal visions of
such clarity and surpassing loveliness.

The interior of the palace was full
of a luxury that verged upon the
barbaric, and which evidently be-
longed to the period of Greek deca-
dence, with its intermingling of Ori-
ental influences. I was led through a
hallway gleaming with onyx and pol-
ished porphyry, into an opulently
furnished room, where, on a couch of
gorgeous fabrics, there reclined a
woman of goddess-like beauty.

At sight of her, I trembled from
head to foot %vith the violence of a
strange emotion. I had heard of the
.sudden mad loves by which men are
seized on beholding for the first time
a certain face and form; but never
before had I experienced a passion of
such intensity, such all-consuming ar-
dor, as the one I conceived immedi-
ately for this woman. Indeed, it
seemed as if I had loved her for a
long time, without knowing that it
was she whom I loved, and mthout
being able to identify the nature of
my emotion or to orient the feeling in
any manner.

She w'as not tall, but was formed
with exquisite voluptuous purity of
line and contour. Her eyes were of a
dark sapphire blue, with molten
depths into which the soul was fain
to plunge as into the soft abysses of

a summer ocean. The curve of her
lips was enigmatic, a little mournful,
and gravely tender as the lips of an
antique Venus. Her hair, brownish
rather than blond, fell over her neck
and ears and forehead in delicious
ripples confined by a plain fillet of
silver. In her expression, there was a
mixture of pride and voluptuous-
ness, of regal imperiousness and femi-
nine yielding. Her movements were
all as effortless and graceful as those
of a serpent.

“I knew you woidd come,” she
murmured in the same soft-voweled
Greek I had heard from the lips of
her servants. “I have waited for you
long; but when you sought refuge
from the storm in the abbey of Peri-
gon, and saw the manuscript in the
secret drawer, I knew that the hour
of your arrival was at hand. Ah ! you
did not dream that the spell which
drew you so irresistibly, with such un-
accountable potency, was the spell of
my beauty, the magical allurement of
my love!”

“Who are you?” I queried. I spoke
readily in Greek, which would have
surprized me greatly an hour before.
But now, I was prepared to accept
anything whatever, no matter how
fantastic or preposterous, as part of
the miraculous fortune, the unbeliev-
able adventure which had befallen
me.

“I am Nycea,” she replied. to my
question. “I love you, and the hos-
pitality of my palace and of my arms
is at your disposal. Need you know
anything more?”

The slaves had disappeared. I flung
myself beside the couch and kissed
the hand she offered me, pouring out
protestations that were no doubt in-
coherent, but were nevertheless full
of an ardor that made her smile ten-
derly.

Her hand was cool to my lips, but
the touch of it fired my passion. I
ventured to seat myself beside her on
the couch, and she did not deny my
familiarity. While a soft purple twi-

THE END OF THE STORY

647

light began to fill the comers of the
chamber, we conversed happily, say-
ing over and over again all the sweet
absurd litanies, all the felicitous
nothings that come instinctively to
the lips of lovers. She was incredibly
soft in my arms, and it seemed almost
as if the completeness of her yielding
was unhindered by the pi-esence of
bones in her lovely body.

The seiwants entered noiselessly,
lighting rich lamps of intricately
caiwen gold, and setting before us a
meal of spicy meats, of unknown sa-
vorous fruits and potent wines. But
I could eat little, and while I drank,
I thirsted for the sweeter wine of
Nj’cea’s mouth.

I DO not know when we fell asleep;

but the evening had flown like an
enchanted moment. Heavy with felic-
ity, I drifted off on a silken tide of
drowsiness, and the golden lamps and
the face of Nycea blurred in a bliss-
ful mist and were seen no more.

Suddenly, from the depths of a
slumber beyond all dreams, I found
myself compelled into full wakeful-
ness. For an instant, I did not even
realize where I was, still less what had
aroused me. Then I heard a footfall
in the open doorway of the room, and
peering across the sleeping head of
Nycea, saw in the lamplight the abbot
Hilaire, who had paused on the
threshold. A look of absolute horror
was imprinted upon his face, and as
he caught sight of me, he began to
gibber in Latin, in tones where some-
thing of fear was blended with fanat-
ical abhorrence and hatred. I saw
that he carried in his hands a large
bottle and an aspergillus. I felt sure
that the bottle was full of holy water,
and of course divined the use for
which it was intended.

Looking at Nycea, I saw that she
too was awake, and knew that she was
aware of the abbot’s presence. She
gave me a strange smile, in which I
read an affectionate pity, mingled

with the reassurance that a woman
offers a frightened child.

“Do not fear for me,” she whis-
pered.

“Foul vamph'e! accursed lamia!
she-seri)ent of hell!” thundered the
abbot suddenly, as he crossed the
threshold of the room, raising the as-
pergillus aloft. At the same moment,
Nycea glided from the couch, with an
unbelievable swiftness of motion, and
vanished through an outer door that
gave upon the forest of laurels. Her
voice hovered in my ear, seeming to
come from an immense distance:

“Farewell for awhile, Christ ophe.
But have no fear. You shall find mo
again if you are brave and patient.”

As the words ended, the holy water
from the asi>ergillus fell on the floor
of the chamber and on the couch
where Nycea had lain beside me.
There was a crash as of many thun-
ders, and the golden lamps went out
in a. darkness that seemed full of
falling dust, of raining fi’agments. I
lost all consciousness, and when I re-
covered, I found myself lying on a
lieap of nibble in one of the vaults I
had traversed earlier in the day. With
a taper in liis hand, and an expres-
sion of gi'eat solicitude, of infinite
(pity upon his face, Hilaire was stoop-
ing over me. Beside him lay the
bottle and the dripping aspei'gillus.

“I thank God, my son, that I found
you in good time,” he said. “When I
returned to the abbey this evening
and learned that you were gone, I sur-
mised all that had happened. I knew
you had read the accursed manuscript
in my absence, and had fallen under
its baleful spell, as have so many
othei’s, even to a certain reverend ab-
bot, one of my predecessors. All of
them, alas! beginning hundi*eds of
years ago with Gerard de Venteillon,
have fallen victims to the lamia who
dwells in these vaults.”

“The lamia?” I questioned, hardly
comprehending his words.

“Yes, my son, the beautiful Nycea

648

WEIRD TALES

who lay in your arms this night is a
lamia, an ancient vampire, who main-
tains in these noisome vaults her pal-
ace of beatific illusions. How she
came to take up her abode at Fausses-
flammes is not known, for her coming
antedates the memory of men. She is
old as paganism ; the G reeks knew her ;
she was exorcised by Apollonius of
Tyana ; and if you could behold her as
she really is, you would see, in lieu of
her voluptuous body, the folds of a
foul and monstrous serpent. All those
whom she loves and admits to her hos-
pitality, she devours in tlie end, after
slie has drained them of life and vigor
with the diabolic delight of her kisses.
The laurel-wooded plain you saw, the
ilex-bordered river, the marble palace
and all tlie luxurj'- therein, wei'e no
jnore than a satanic delusion, a lovely
bubble that arose fi’om the dust and
mold of immemorial death, of ancient
corruption. Tliey crumbled at the kiss
of the holy water I brought wdth me
when I followed you. But Nycea, alas?
has escaped, and I fear she will still
survive, to build again her palace of
demoniacal enchantments, to commit
again and again the unspeakable
abomination of her sins.”

Still in a sort of stupor at the ruin
of my new-found happiness, at the
singiilar revelations made by the ab-
bot, I followed him obediently as he
led the way through the vaults of
Paussesflammes. He mounted the
stairway by wliich I had descended,
and as he neared the top and was
forced to stoop a little, the great
flagstone swung upward, letting in
a stream of chill moonlight. We
emerged, and I permitted him to take
me back to the monastery.

As my brain began to clear, and the
confusion into which I had been
thrown resolved itself, a feeling of
resentment grew apace — a keen anger
at the interference of Hilaire. Un-
heedful whether or not he had rescued
me from dire physical and spiritual
perils, I lamented the beautiful dream
of which he had deprived me. The
kisses of Nycea burned softly in my
memory, and I knew that whatever
she was, woman or demon or serpent,
there was no one in all the world who
could ever arouse in me the same love
and the same delight. I took care,
however, to conceal my feelings from
Hilaire, realizing that a betrayal of
such emotions would merely lead him
to look upon me as a soul, that was lost
beyond redemption.

On the morrow, pleading the ur-
gency of my return home, I departed
from Perigon. Now, in the library of
my father’s house near Moulins, I
write this account of my adventures.
The memory of Nycea is magically
clear, ineffably dear as if she were
still beside me, and still I see the rich
draperies of a midnight chamber il-
lumed by- lamps of curiously earven
gold, and still I hear the words of her
farewell :

"Have no fear. You shall find me
again if you are brave and patient.”

Soon I shall return, to visit again
the ruins of the Chateau des Pausses-
flammes, and redescend into the vaults
below the triangular flagstone. But,
in spite of the nearness of Perigon
to Paussesflammes, in spite of my es-
teem for the abbot, my gratitude for
his hospitality, and my admiration for
his incomparable library, I shall not
care to revisit my friend Hilaire.

IlUR

bs EftRLXt ASTONBttt-

“They would clutch and miss, and
howl horrific ululations.”

foul beyond compare is Lur's un-
canny coast. Like fiends defiling
vestal baths the mucid mountains
stand, ascending sheer from pure and
dazzling depths.

No verdure vests those slimy steeps
Which mariners from other deeps
Have named the Hills of Hell.
Malignant mists play hide-and-seek
Around each pompous, peccant peak
Where nameless horrors dwell

Yes, beautiful is Syspia, until the
sailor nears the Hills of Hell, whose
feet no unwrecked ship lias ever
touched; for when the valiant voy-
ager makes bold to reach Lur’s shore,
the storm-gods of the mountains wake
for war. Their lusty legions slither
down in arrogant array. With yowls
and yells they tear the tides, and make
the mists into thick thunder clouds.
And when the waves rise moimtain-
high as to defy the lightning’s leap-
ing glare, and the wo-wind’s requiem

H igh are the hills, the haughty
hills that hide the Land of
Lur. Like sentient things de-
moniac they stab the sad-starred sky,
disdainfully defiant of the gods that
gave them birth.

Beyond the far-flung Syspia Sea —
which lies beyond the Seventh Sea —
these monstrous mountains rise. Dark
and deformed, hunchbacked with
hate, they form the countiy’s coast.

Beautiful is Syspia with its sobs
and its sighs and its laughter; with its
dawns as red as rubies and its dusks
of darksome gold — Syspia, the sliim-
mering, glimmering. But fierce and

650

WEIRD TALES

reverberates, the stoutest ship must
wreck upon, the rocks ; must crash like
eggs trod on by Brobdingnagians.

It is then that

The Sea of Syispia knows no calm;

No sunshine comes to bring its balm;

The wild waves .sing a solemn psalm,

A dirge of death —

Deep dirge of death.

And when the storm is over and the
shipwrecked reach the shore, they find
most of their mates already there, all
vitreous-eyed and strangely, sadly
changed. . . . Ghosts do not linger
long beneath the waves.

And Syspia, softly sigliing, mourns
not for the newly dead : her dolor-song
is for the dead-alive. For Lur's cold
coast is long and bare — a foul, infer-
nal fringe. There is no hope for those
cast there ; the very ghosts themselves
can not depart. The devils of the
Hills of Hell seize all who dare as-
cend. Mirages mock, real ships are
seen, but Syspia beai-s no sail that can
avail. And so the doomed must lin-
ger on in plight that calls to death,
tormented till they retrogress into
abysmal brutes. Urged by desireless,
kindly ghosts, some seek surcease of
sorrow in the sea; but most of them
starve on and on, for love of life is
strongest when there’s little life to
love; when Erebus, the atrous, claims
the mind. But comes the day when
all are gone save one — an atavism
gnawing on his final comrade’s bones.
And then the last man dies.

Strong was the craft that carried
me to Lur 's ciu*se-ridden coast, but
stronger were the horrors from the
hills. Of all the crew — good men and
tnie — none reached the rocks save me.

’Twas thus

I came to Lur’s mihallowed shore

Where ghosts of mariners galore

Cried out, “Oh come and dream no more!”

In mockery —

So frightfully!

“There is no hope — ^what seems so
is delusion.” Thus spoke the spectral
forms that crowded round ; and then.

with many a sigh and sign, entreated
me to share their common fate.

T he hours were days, the days were
months, the while I lingered tliere.
Once Syspia cast a rotting octopus
ashore . . . and I did eat.

Then came the glorious Eastertide,
when demons dare not stir; and in
that sacred season I bade all the
ghosts farewell and started out to
climb the Hills of Hell.

0 God! the horror of that climb!
They say that You created all. Let me
deny that lie! For out of goodness
evil can not come ; love can not father
hate. No, Lucifer still lives, and all
his lieges from Abaddon down to
Zammiel.

Though blinded by the Easter light
that kept them in their caves, the en-
tities of evil reached for me. Their
lurid eyes, illumined with the hate of
deepest Hell, kept glaring, glowering
at me through the gloom. Their ob-
scene shapes writhed in their impo-
tence. They leered and jeered mad
malisons that left a sulfurous smell;
envenomed echoes shook the shame-
less hills. And more than once a
shedim shape would half emerge from
shadow’ed cell and grasp at me with
greedy, ^rgoyle grin. Thank God,
their hellish hideousness was only half
revealed! With many a his.s they’d
clutch — and miss, and missing, howl
horrific ululations.

Ertl emanations came from every
curse-choked cave and cloaked me like
a suffocating shroud — evil adumbra-
tions that were like the ghosts of
ghosts. But they could not continue
long in Easter’s holy glow, and soon
I saw them slink back to their
sources.

Spite of these things I journeyed
on, past crags a-creep with black
abominations, past cliffs that oozed
■with foulest feculence, across ravines
where slimy serpents crawled like
sinuous sin. I plodded on, footsore and

THE LAND OP LUR

651

spent, until at last the horrors lay
behind; until the Hills of Hell were
far above.

Below me lay fair foothills, undu-
lating, green, serene; and farther on,
a vast and verdant vale.

The day was near to dying when I
reached the sylvian slopes; inclement
clouds half hid the sleepy sun. In
search of sanctuary for the night, I
chanced at length upon a clearing
wherein stood a faded fane — an an-
cient, tiny temple — an ivy-shrouded
shrine with doors agape. I entered
this strange refuge and sought I’est,
reclining on a rihhly cushioned pew.
Eldritch gleams that glimmered
through the multipictured panes sent
eerj’’ iridescence through the gloom —
the glamorous gloom that covered
aisle and apse.

Outside

The red sun turned to domes of gold

The clouds before his vision rolled.

And sought the far horizon’s fold;

Then came the night.

But sleep came not with vespertime,
nor tvith narcotic night ; for out of the
west the storm hordes came, ferocious,
frenz^’-fraught, and blotted out the
melancholy moon and every star — en-
gulfed the ghastly gibbous moon and
every timorous star. For three long
hours the tempest tramped upon the
jlrembling hills — trod like Gog and
Magog on the shivering, quivering
hills. The lightning flashed, the thun-
der crashed, the wo-wind screeched
and screamed. The tribulation of the
trees — the sylvan sussuration — be-
came a sob and then a threnody. And
on the gale there came, it seemed,
howling from the heights — damna-
tions from the distant Hills of Hell —
a fulminous cacophony of curses. And
when the wind was at its worst and
chaos seemed to beckon, the holy place
that sheltered me was shaken crest to
crypt by deafening detonations crash-
ing like the crack of doom. A thou-
sand Thors could hardly deal such
din.

Louder, bolder boomed the thunder,
Wilder did the tempest rave.

And the forest, bowing under.

Moaned as if its soul to save.

T he morning came cerulean, and
not a shadow stirred. And in
mom’s ray I sought a way that led to
inmost Lur.

But first my eyes were to behold a
new, unholier horror. The path that
pointed from the church ran through
a copse of cedars, and in that wood I
found gray stones — gray slabs that
guarded empty, gaping graves'. A va-
cant village of the dead — a tom and
tenantless necropolis !

“My God!” I cried. “What can
this mean? — this desecration of the
dead? — this ravage that has robbed
them of their rest ? ’ ’

And then, to add to my amaze, I
noted that each tombstone told an
enigmatic tale. “Here lay the

body ” each inscription started.

Long I pondered as I paused by
those pathetic pits, and mused the
more on finding several unmolested
mounds, all of them new-molded and
vmmarked.

At length I left the gruesome grove
and wandered on until the wood gave
way to rolling fields. And here I
found vast vineyards and long lines
of fruited trees, and respite from my
weariness and hunger.

My incredible journey resumed, I
remarked that the roadway grew
^vider, but held no track nor trace of
recent travel; and then, as mile on
mile I trekked the trail, another ab-
normality I noted: throughout the
fair and fertile countrj^side there was
no sign of human habitation — ^no
house nor hut amid that husbandry.

At last the undulating land that
held the vineyards vanished. I faced
a flower-flecked field of endless area.

Long I roamed through that perfumed
prairie

On a road that ran straight as a string —
On a beautiful, bud-bordered highway
MTiere I was the lone breathing thing.

Not a bird-song was heard in the hedges;
Not a cricket-chirp, though it was spring.

652

WEIRD TALES

And when the saffron sunset cast its
color on the scene, there came a gleam
— a beam reflected from some spot
before me. And then — “Thank God!”
I cried in joy. ‘ ‘ The journey’s nearly
ended!”

The coruscating light revealed a
mass of metal roofs — the tops of
homes and temples in a many-towered
town that stood out dimly in the dark-
ening distance.

The outre outlines of the place grew
plainer as I progressed, and soon I
saw a scene suggestive of the long ago
— a city circled by great walls like
ancient Jericho — a town of towers and
turrets that were made in massive
mold — a Mecca in the mystic Land of
Lur.

I followed the road round the ram-
part a distance of moi-e than a mile;
and then, as the daylight surrendered
to graylight, I found a Gargantuan
gate — ^an iron-paled, ponderous portal
beyond which appeared languid
lights. And on peering inside, through
the bars, I espied two Cerberus-like
senti'ies on guard. Each was dighted
in hauberk and helmet, and each had
a halberd in hand. And on seeing me
there they cried out as in fear — cried
out as to give an alann. Then they
opened the entrance and seized me,
and hurried me into the town. There
the people came out and sent up a
great shout of astonishment as they
surged round.

And then my captors carried me
toward a central place — a castle with
the tallest tower of all. The crowd
grew greater on the way, and in their
cries I sensed, it seemed, a gracious
note of greeting. The forms and faces
of the folk wei'e blurred as in the
mellow-lighted street the figures
milled.

Into a vast, high-vaulted hall be-
neath the tower they took me — a hall
where countless candles flamed and
flickered. And when the light fell on
the faces of the men of Lur, I shud-
dered at the shadows in their eyes . . .
eyes eery with the very soul of sad-

ness . . . hopeless, heavy-lidded, hor-
ror-haunted . . . framed in faces that
were oddly old . . . faces that were
ancient more than aged . . . sorrow-
faded rather than senile.

They were a strange and striking
lot — a pageant from the past. All were
garbed in garments of a mediseval
mode — costumes quaint. Quixotic, col-
orful, Some were richly plumed and
clad in shining panoply — the knightly
legions of the Land of Lur, The raven
robes of priests were also there.

F ar down the hall arose a dais that
held a dazzling thix)ne, and there-
on sat a man in regal raiment — a man
whose face made out his majesty — a
patriarchal sovereign with the saddest
face of all. I not^ this when to his
seat they took me. I bowed, and then
he bade me tell my tale.

“Thrice welcome to the Laud of
Lur,” he said when I had finished.
“And welcome to the towered Town
of Tur. Greetings in my name, the
name of Loris, Lord of Lur. At first
we feared that you might be a devil
in disguise — a demon from the dismal
Swamp of Swur. But now we know
you are the friend whose coming to
us was foretold in ancient ages by our
oracles.

“Now listen, stranger, to the story
of my lonely land — to the jeremiad of
my fiend-infested kingdom.

‘ ‘ This home of horror once was fair-
est of all earthly isles. Vessels from
all harbors sailed the silveiy Syspia
Sea with voyagers who come to visit
Lur; and once our otvn prottd ships
touched every shore. All Heaven
smiled upon us till four Intndred
years ago; thenceforth we’ve heard
the hoarse laugh of all Hell.

“Lur, as you know, lies fa7'thest
from the continental lands; it is the
earth’s most isolated isle. The enti-
ties of evil which held forth, on other
shores apparently knew naught of our
existence, or eared not for our coun-
try’s far exile. And so it was till
Europe learned the art of exorcism.

THE LAND OP LUR

653

Then began the exodus of Lucifer’s
dark legions — the great hegira of Be-
lial’s hordes. Most of them, joined in
the great migration — all the strongest,
most ferocious fiends — and finally they
found the Land of Lur,

“And thus it was our eountrj” came
to be a den of demons. Some of the
most malignant stayed among our
coastal mountains and formed the
guard that girdles all the isle. Many
wandered on until they reached the
Wood of Wur; others settled in the
Swamp of Swur.

“Invisible at first, they grew so
fearless in their new-found freedom
that shortly they assumed their
frightful forms. We had no formula
with which to fight them; no charm to
fling in their infernal faces. They
liaiuited every hearth and home in
Lur. They seized us; sought to sub-
jugate our souls. Our children gave
their life-blood to the blasphemous
Black Mass the devils held deep in the
Wood of Wur. They preyed upon us
in our impotence till some of us
eui’sed Deity and died. We found our
only refuge in our diurches.

‘ ‘ At length our magi mastered cer-
tain methods of defense. At their
behest we set up sacred cities and
walled them with a wondrous kind of
stone — a rare, enchanted rock whose
strength repelled all evil forces — all
save the Ghoupires of the Swamp of
Swur. And Tur became the center of
asylum, the largest of our talismanic
tomis. Then, to forefend against the
fiends while working in our fields, we
built small churches of the cherished
stone at points where we could readily
find refuge. Perhaps you saw one of
these fanes wliile on the trail to Tur
— and marked the tombs made tenant-
less by Ghoupires.”

“The graves! The Ghoupires!” I
exclaimed. “What form of fiend are
they?”

“They are the most maleficent of
all,” the sovereign said. “They are a
hybrid horde. Among the vilest ver-

f

min that came to the Land of Lur
were ghouls and vampires from each
end of earth. They mated when they
reached the Swamp of Swur ; broi;ght
into being Hell’s unholiest brood — the
ghastly Ghoupires, foulest of all fu-
sions, who disinter and then devour
our dead. And we are almost helpless
in their hands. They mock our magic
and our priestly power. But only
once a year do they appease their hid-
eous hunger — the last night in the
mournful month of Mur. Then, as-
tride great unicorns as black as Sa-
tan’s sable, they swoop upon and sack
our cemeteries, and t^e the bodies to
the Swamp of Swur. There the fe-
male Ghoupires feast on blood — blood
wliich their witchcraft has made warm
again. The males then satisfy their
gruesome greed ’ ’

“But why not bum the bodies?” I
inquired, sick and a-shudder. “Why
put them in the ground as food for
fiends?”

“Ah,” he replied, “their ashes
have been scattered to our sorrow.
Unless we leave the corpses for the
demons to dig up, they wreak their
wrath by ravaging our cities and seiz-
ing living Lurians to devour. And
when the Ghoupires storm our gates
and wreck our guardian walls, the
other demons rush in through the
ruins. . . . Therefore the odious,
cursed compromise.

“The fearful night that brings the
Feast of Fiends is almost here; but
you have no need to be troubled. Lur
has a lasting legend — uttered by our
oracles — that finally a voyager would
span the Syspia Sea, land ship-
wrecked on our horror-haunted shore,
and safely cross the hate-hot HUls of
Hell; and having thus in fact defied
the fiends, become invulnerable to all
their venom. You are the very first
to mock the monsters of the moun-
tains.”

T wo days I tarried in the Town of
Tur, and visited its eveiy tower
and turret; and more than once I

654

WEIRD TALES

heard this moan — this mad lament of
Lur:

Sad are the bouIs that dwell within
The towered Town of Tnr,

And pity, God, on all of us
Within the Land of Lur ;

Great pity on our dead, for now
It is the Month of Mur,

And soon the fiends must have their feast
Deep in the Swamp of Swur
Tliat lies beyond tho darkness of
The woful Wood of Wur.

B eneath a monstrotis moon I wan-
dered through the Wood of Wur,
the God-forsaken forest that lies near
the Swamp of Swmr — the dismal dank
that was my destination.

0 God! they say that You created
all. Let me again deny that loath-
some lie! For out of goodness, I re-
peat, no evil thing can come. Deity
could not have made the denizens of
that dark wood who massed to menace
me — ^the sinister, sardonic shapes
whase red-green eyes glared baneftdly
from every hole and bush — who
crowded close but dared not do me
harm; and God could not have given
voice to throats that were so vile —
that thundered forth such molten
maledictions.

I saw afreets of every sort, and
countless caeo-demons. Asmodeus ap-
peared, and Ahriman with Delv, his
doting servant ; and pre-Adamic Eblis,
proud as ever. The Furies three were
there — Tesiphone, Alecto and Ma-
gffiri. So was lusty Loki, lord of
strife. Lamias looked on with blood
upon their lickeinish lips. Graveless
Lemures groaned their prayer that
they be granted rest. Gnomes and
goblins grinned at me, and imps
joined in the diabolic jabbering of the
Jinns, while the werewolf flashed his
fangs. I saw the ineubi and suceubi,
and heard the heartless Harpies hiss
their hunger. . . . And over all I

sensed, methought, the sulfurous self
of Mephistopheles.

Then, to save my sanity, I fled the
Wood of Wur, intending to return at
once to Tut. Alas! I lost my way
and landed in the Swamp of Swur !

I wandered many a weary mile;
then, as the bloodshot moon was mark-
ing midnight, I came upon a clearing
in the midst of the morass, around
which sat the fiends whom I had faced
back in the forest! The embers in
their e\Tl eyes flamed up as they be-
held me ; they growled a greeting most
malevolent, and cursed the powers
that protected me.

Suddenly the beat of hoofs broke
through their feral fuming. They
heard, and gave a hellish howl of wel-
come.

And then, astride their snorting
unicorns, the bestial Ghoupires burst
upon the scene! Each bore a bulky
burden that gave off a stifling stench.
Dismoimting in the center of the
fiend-encircled space, the demons
placed their plimder on the ground.

hlalefic was the moonlight tliat re-
vealed the maddening trudi — that fell
upon those shrouded, shrunken forms !
And blasphemous the shout that shook
that vast, miasmic marsh when all the
devils voiced revolting joy !

The Ghoupires then began preparing
for the Feast of Fiends. I watched,
and saw the thing that rocked my rea-
son! I saw their sorcery cause the
cold cadavers to fill out — saw the
corpses move, and heard them moan —
saw them jerk their joints and leap to
life — ^heard their shuddering shriek
of hopeless horror — saw the gloating
Ghoupires pounce upon the writhing
wretches and make them ready for
their red repast. ... ,

Thank Heaven for the heavy cloud
that dimed that awful orgy! Thank
God for kind unconsciousness that hid
the foul finale !

you a child again with only the stature of
a man.”

Hath
Clerarth

^ Errst

The Story Thus Far,

I N HIS distant laboratory Professor Eden photo-
graphs and locates a hitherto unsuspected Evil
Oenius who rules the world from an underground
palace in North Africa. At his death he sends his
adopted son, Professor Sanderson, on a crusade
against him. Sanderson joins forces with Neal
Emory, whose father has been murdered by the
machinations of the Black Monarch. They enter
the Black Kingdom and find a race of autmnatons
ruled by the despot. Bez. They arc captured and
brought to the throneroom of Kez, where they
are addressed by a beautiful feminine voice issuing
from an enormous diamond disk. Later they de-
cide that the power of the Black Monarch lies in
the disk, and they steal back intending to break
it. Behind it they find the lifeless body of a girl,
and while they gaze at it they are caught by the
TIUs story began in m

monster, Rez, He taunts them with their help-
lessness. mockingly demonsti'ates his miraculous
scientific abilities, and sends them back to their
prison to wait the mysterious destiny for which
they are being allowed to live.

13. The Ambition of Eez

R estlessly Neal and San-
derson moved about their
prison, sitting down only to
get to their feet again, trying to re-
sign themselves to waiting and find-
ing it impossible. There was little

tD TALEIS for February 655

656

WEIED TALES

with which to occupy themselves —
nothing to read, nothing to talk about,
since all conceivable methods of
escape had been discussed and ad-
mitted hopeless, nothing to do but eat
and sleep and gradually feel them-
selves breaking with the strain of
suspense.

Neal especially was irritable and
nen’ous. On him more than on the
huge scientist was weighing the mo-
notony of their imprisonment m the
kingdom of Rez ; and when at length
the guard leader appeared with the
inevitable platter of waxy vegetable
stalks, he moved savagely toward the
man as though to attack him out of
sheer longing to express himself in
violent action. Sanderaon strode in-
offensively between them and dis-
couraged the senseless impulse with a
glance. Neal sat do%vn to the table in
silence, and the professor began the
regular course of exercising in which
he indulged many times daily.

‘ ‘ Three times a day we cat this fod-
der!” Neal burst forth at last. “Al-
ways the same abominable stuff. And
always, day and night, Ave have the
same light from these infernal metal
plates blinding us — even when we try
to sleep. Hour after hour we walk
around these rooms, always in the
same frame of mind — wondering what
Rez is going to do to us and how he is
going to do it ! Whatever it may be,
I Avisli he would hurry and get it over
with. Almost anything that could
liappen would be better than living in
this hell ! ’ ’

“Easy,” soothed the professor,
frowning a little at the rising inflec-
tion in the younger man’s Amice.
“There’s no use in wearing our nerves
to rags about something we can’t
help.”

He ceased Anally from the bending
and straightening exercises, and came
to the table on which was set their
meal.

“And ahvays you go through that
same set of training motions!”
snapped Neal. “As though you were

going to meet Rez in a test of
strength ! ’ ’

“Who knows? Perhaps I may. ”

“How? You can’t move a hand
uiiless he wills you to. And he cer-
tainly won’t allow you the freedom to
attack him!”

“Things happen,” replied the pro-
fessor equably. “I don’t knoAv how I
can break the coma he settles over me
Avhenever he desires it, and I don’t
know whether I could overcome him
even if I could get free. Neverthe-
less, I want to keep myself ready for
whatever may happen.”

Neal said nothing more for a time,
a little conscious of his state of nerves
and not anxious to display them fur-
ther before this man who could keep
his oAvn so well in hand. His restless-
ness continued, however, and even
seemed to extend to his palate and
make the food he was eating more un-
likable than ever.

“How can men continue to eat this
nauseating stuff day after day?” he
said finally, pushing aside his portion
before he had consumed half of it.
“At first it’s absolutely tasteless,
Avhich is bad enough. Biat after
awhile it seems to sting the roof of
your mouth and leave an acrid after-
taste. Pah!” He reached for water.

“Why, I don’t notice it,” ansAvered
Sanderson, glancing at him with sur-
prize. “To me it seems neither more
nor less unpleasant than usual.”

Neal moodily watched him finish the
rest of his meal.

“Wonder Avhat time it is,” he mur-
mured after awhile. “We don’t cA'^en
know Avhether it’s night or day,
cooped up in this disgusting hole the
Avay AA-e are.”

The professor leaned across the
table and put his big hand on the
other’s shoulder a moment in a steady-
ing gesture.

“Watch yourself, Neal,” he urged.
“It will do you no good to fret your-
self to pieces.”

Neal breathed deeply and made a
perceptible effort to compose himself.

THE BLACK MONARCH

657

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little off my
feed today — or tonight — or which-
ever it is. It’s probably the eternal
sameness of tliis evil-tasting food and
these bare stone rooms.”

Sandereon calmly caught his wrist
and pressed his thumb to his pulse.
The count was faster than normal,
and he could feel a faint flush of
fever. The disturbance of his mind
had e^^dently tinged the functioning
of his body to a slight extent. He did
not tell Neal this, however.

“Nothing wrong with you but
neiwes,” he said soothingly. “Try to
smooth them down with a little ap-
plied patience until ”

The door was opened and the guard
leader appeared, with the usual .corps
of men stationed outside. They were
curtly commanded to go with them to
the disk room.

O NCE more they walked up the
broad incline, past the statue-
like guards in the base of the tower,
and toward the throneroom of Rez.
As they climbed the broad steps, Neal
felt tremulous, oddly weak. He felt
actually ill, and he could hardly keep
on his feet as they went under the
drape the guard leader held aside for
them and cntei'ed the room of the disk.

As before the room appeared to be
empty, though the air was permeated
with the intangible charge of evil
magnetism that announced Rez to
be not far off. With the exit of the
guard leader, they found themselves
moving automatically toward a metal
bench that faced the disk, and seated
themselves involuntarily in answer to
the imspoken command of the devil-
ish ei'eature who controlled them re-
lentlessly. An instant later the cylin-
drical head appeared from behind the
curtains near the great disk, and Rez
strode out and stood gigantic before
them.

For a moment he faced them, his
cold eyes glaring through the distort-
ing glass lenses in the helmet. He
seemed to gaze hardest at Neal. Then

he nodded stiffly, and began to walk
up and down the room, careless of
turning his back to them, perfectly
secure in the knowledge that they
could not move unless he so nulled it.

At length his featureless voice came
to them, with equal clarity whether
he w^as right besi^ them or thirty feet
away.

‘ ‘ When you were here before I men-
tioned an ambition of mine — an am-
bition having to do with the outside
world of men. I am now going to
explain that reference to w'orld rule.”
He paused for a moment near one of
the ancient javelins that himg on the
wall, and took it dowm to finger its
massive blade.

“As I have told you, I w'as bom in
Egypt many thousands of years ago.
Even then, during my natural life’s
span, I coveted supreme pow'er; and
when I got from the priest of Isis the
secret of prolonged life, I knew that
some day I would rule the world.
Prom that distant hour till now I
have been maturing my plans.

“AU these centuries I have been
preparing the wmrld to accept my
leadership. This preparation has con-
sisted mainly of plunging it into
chaos and war in order to foster
hatred. Hatred ! That is the key to
my actions, the lever that shall let me
control the earth. Men must hate
each other — race for race, weak for
powerful, the successful for the fail-
ures. Hatred alone can create de-
stractive deeds and prevent the pop-
ulation of the world from joining in
powerful peace and prosperity against
me.”

He faced Sanderson for a moment.

“You and your Professor Eden, in
the retreat of your laboratory, discov-
ered and tabulated some of the things
I have done to gain my ends : The dis-
rupting deeds of violence and greed
performed by certain of the pow'erful
ones of earth who were under the slav-
ery of my dLsk, such as” — ^the gro-
tesque head nodded briefly to Neal —
“the chaos your father caused by

658

WEIRD TALES «

mismanagement of the power that was
his.

“I have directed men to acquire
criminally huge fortunes and sow dis-
astrous discontent among thousands
of poor by speculation and graft that
further impoverished them. I have
caused harmful laws to be passed,
idiotic social conventions to be en-
forced, a thousand harassing measures
to be crammed despotically down the
throats of mankind by the fanaticism
of those in power over them. And
each false step of those in power has
created more misery, further fertile
gi'ound for my ambition.

“Chiefest of all, however, in re-
ducing the world to periodic chaos
and le^iving it divided against itself
and ready for my dictatorship, have
been the wai-s. For all of these I have
been responsible. You know how it
has been done — through the influence
of the disk over all those near the
emanations of any pieces chipped
fi*om its edge. The instant a man
shows signs of coming leadership
among his fellows, that instant he is
singled out to be presented with a
blue diamond. You can see how wars
are started with kings and emperors
in my bondage.

“In the sword hilt of the Kaiser in
1912, for example, placed where his
left liand touched it constantly, was
one of my blue diamonds. In the ink-
well of the Emperor of Austria,
dropped there by a visiting Balkan
prince who was under my domination,
was a blue diamond. Ever 3 W(rhere
have been fragments of the disk, sewn
in carpets of government conference
rooms, worn as ornaments by unsus-
pecting financiers, replacing the reg-
ular jewels in the tiny bearings of
watches and clocks, set in the snuff-
box of a Napoleon, mounted in the
cromi of a Czar, eveiywhere. And by
their means I have caused the wars of
history, ever increasing in magnitude
of disaster, and culminating in the
great war of 1914.

I T IS only' during the last century,
however, that I have actively ap-
proached my dream of ruling the
earth in an open manner. Always I
have realized that the race of man-
kind — ^because of its lamentable per-
sistence in revolting against despot-
ism no matter how well-meant it
might be — might object to my benev-
olent but harsh rule. That has been
my stumbling-block, and through the
years I have been experimenting for
a physical means of removing this
stubbornness from the minds of the
too independent human race.

“Those experiments are finally con-
cluded — or will be with youreelves —
and I am ready for the final step in
attaining the world’s thi'one.” He
paused before them again, still finger-
ing the heavy javelin as though he had
forgotten he held it.

“This last step is all planned. It
will be a gigantic program of disaster.
I shall break the race of mankind to
pieces, and into the confusion of death
I shall step forth as the supreme
power able to bind the pieces together
again into one whole pattern with
myself at the head.

“The first disaster shall be a world
war compared to Avhich the war of
1914 shall seem insignificant. It shall
be started by declaration of hostility
between China and America, and into
the conflict shall be ili‘aA\m every na-
tion on the face of the earth. It will
last for over t\venty years. Three-
fourths of the adult male population
will be killed or hopelessly crippled
by it. Women and children shall be
.so oppressed that at its conclusion not
one human being in ten will remain
normal and capable of bringing
healthy progeny into the world. Think
of that for a moment and realize the
consequences: After this great war
only one life in ten shall remain to
flicker uncertainly in a desolated
w'orld. And there shall be scarcely a
dwelling left intact, hardly a field lui-
poisoned by the chemicals of warfare.

THE BLACK MONARCH

659

and neither food to eat nor fuel to
lighten the cold of winter.

'‘The weapons of this war will be
more destructive than it is now pos-
sible to imagine. Working ruider my
unseen guidance in scores of secret
government laboratories in the differ-
ent countries are chemists with guard-
ed formulffi of gases that can depopu-
late a continent in a month, rays that
kill at a distance of hundreds of miles,
explosive shells that can destroy half
a city at a blow. Oh, it will be a
great triumph of science, this next
war of mine !

“Afterward, with the small rem-
nant of humanity scarcely able to
exist on their ruined earth, shall come
the next step in my preparatory pro-
gram.

“There will be a world-wide plague,
such an epidemic as is considered im-
possible now'. It is aU in readiness,
prepared by my hands. At this very
moment, wdthin half a mile of this
room, there is a cave filled with him-
dreds of thousands of small tubes — ^in
each tube disease for a thousand men.
It is lughly contagious and usually
deadly, this new disease of mine whose
germs are waiting inert for the mo-
ment they sliall be unleashed. Few of
those who escape the war shall escape
the plague.

“Accompanying the epidemic tliere
will be renewed physical disturbances
of the earth’s surface. All over the
world inactive volcanoes shall act
again and cover the land with lava
and ashes — set in motion by the proc-
ess of vibration of wdiich you know
I am master. Also, by the same
means, I shall pi-oduce earthquakes,
tidal w'aves, all the catastrophes of
nature that have been feared by man
since the dawn of history.

“Then I shall emerge from this
hole that conceals me now. With men
temporarily lowered into animal hdp-
lessness, mth all the economic and in-
tellectual achievements of the ages
converted into a forgotten, charred
mass, I shall assume control of the

earth and proceed to rebuild it,
through the centuries of life still to be
mine, into whatever pattern I may
desire.”

Neal turned his aching eyes on the
enormous figure that paced back and
forth before him. He was in physical
agony. His head felt as though it
would crack in two ; every muscle of
his body ached; and the skin of his
hands was alternately w'et with cold
perspiration and drj' with fever. But
ill as he was, he could not let such
words as Rez had flung at them go
unanswered.

“It’s impossible!” he exclaimed,
his voice hoarse. “You can’t do such
things. It’s beyond the power ”

“Impossible?” was the imperious
interruption. “Impossible — for me?
There are few things Rez can not do.
But I will show you. I told j’ou that
the first step in my progi*am of dis-
aster was a gigantic war, and I told
you which nations would be the first
to engage in it, later drawing all other
nations into the struggle. Watch the
disk and I will prove my words.”

T he light was shut off, and on the
huge diamond a picture formed
showing a richly furnished confer-
ence room. In it was a long oval table
covered with green felt, and about
this were seated some twenty impor-
tant-looking men. They wure yellow-
skinned, these men, with intelligent,
alert black eyes. One of their num-
ber rose to address the rest, and
instantly they prepared to hear his
words with a deference that suggested
he had great authority. On his left
hand a blue diamond sullenly reflected
the light from a great globe overhead.

He began to speak, emphasizing his
words with soft raps against the
green felt of the table with his
clenched fist ; and as his pictured lips
moved his words wei-e reproduced by
the marvelous contralto voice. The
unfamiliar language was translated
by Rez in his telepathy so that it

660

WEffiD TALES

should be intelligible to the two who
sat watching the moving photograph.

With the first words it was appar-
ent that the gathering was a war con-
ference. Rapidly and succinctly a
mobilization program was sketched
out, appropriations for war funds
suggested, and even a date set for the
declaration of war that seemed al-
ready to have been voted for by the
majority of those present. He sat
down and another rose to take his
place. This one deplored the war pro-
posed, and tried to talk against it. A
storm of hissing drown^ him out,
and in less than five minutes the
proposition of the first was accepted
verbatim. It was to be war — and at
once!

The picture faded from the disk, to
be replaced by another of similar na-
tui'e. This showed men of a different
race gathered about a conference table
in another land. The faces seemed
familiar, and Neal exclaimed aloud
as the reason suddenly became appar-
ent. He was gazing at the President
of the United States and his cabinet
members.

Even as they watched, the Secre-
tary of War arose and began a speech.
He urged approximately the same
mea.sures as liad the Cliinese states-
man in the preceding picture, and he
too proposed a war date. It coincided
very neaidy with the date determined
upon by those in the country across
the Pacific. And in the cravat of this
recognized power among the cabinet
members was a blue diamond pin.

With the unanimous vote to pass on
the measures suggested and to agitate
for war against China, the meeting
closed; and the disk room was again
flooded with light.

Rez turned toward them,

“You are satisfied now that I can
do as I say? You see that I am fully
able to disarm the world for my com-
ing? As surely as it lives and
breathes, the whole human race "will
soon come under my rule, a broken
thing to be molded in my hands!”

Can*derso>j starcv., Squarely at the
nightmare head, and, though his
face was white and strained, there was
in his light gray eyes a flicker of the
indomitability that has set man above
the animals since the race somehow
began to exist.

“You’re not able to do it! Power-
ful as you are, and entirely capable of
bringing about this whole^e destruc-
tion as I believe you to be — you will
be conquered in the end. As long as
one man breathes with a spark of
humanity in his heart, you will be
defied!”

The glaring eyes were turned full
on him.

“So I have thought,” was the lui-
expected admiasion. “And it is with
that realization in mind that I have
been experimenting, as I mentioned
to you, to remove the stubborn inde-
pendence that man seems to keep even
in the hour of his greatest degrada-
tion.

“The men of earth, I Imow, are not
like the men of Rez. Here, by cen-
turies of selective breeding and weed-
ing out of children not conforming to
the type I desired, I have formed a
kind of subnormal man such as is a
perfect subject for a ruler like myself.
My people submit to discipline with
the docility of beasts; they are effi-
cient laborers, and they do not dare to
think — even if enough intelligence
were left them to think with, after
generations of discarding the too in-
telligent ones who happmi to be bom.

“I was able to create this type I
demand because I started with a very
few who were held in check by my
strength and superior mentality. As
their numbers grew they were «-
strained by the increasing dominance
of the inherent traits I caused to be
bred into them. But-, I repeat, this is
an age-long process. It would be im-
possible to apply it to the men of the
outer earth, even after their numbers
had diminished to a twentieth by the
disasters I have ready to unleash on
them. Before I could reduce them all

THE BLACK MONARCH

661

to submission there would probably
be a revolt against me that might suc-
ceed by sheer majority of numbers.

“There is an answer to this, how-
ever. If I could manage to mold the
men of earth — quickly — into the same
stupid pattern as the men of Rez, I
should succeed in dominating them as
easily as I do my o\vn subjects here.

“I have found a way to do this.
The answer lies in chemistry and sur-
gery’ such as you know nothing of in
the pitiful laboratories on earth. And
you two are to be the filial subjects
of experimentation that will prove my
theories to be sound.

“The solution of my problem has
to do with memorj'.

“It is patriotism, love, ambition,
such fiery sentiments, that make the
men of earth different from the men
of Rez, who have had such emotions
carefully bred out of them. There-
fore all that is necessaiy for me to do
before I can control men of the outer
earth is to force them to forget their
patriotism, their loves, their ambi-
tions. If an average man could be
made to forget that he has a coimtry,
a wife, a desire to rise above his fel-
lows, an urge to improve himself —
and if he could still remember the
dexterities of his trade — he would be
a perfect man-machine, an excellent
subject. He would have mind enough
kft to perform his appointed duties
with precision, and not enough brain
to remember that he is an individual.

“Assuming, then, that I could make
him lose his memory as I describe — ^if
I were master of controlled amnesia,
in other words — I could dominate him
as I chose, be as stem in my rule as I
pleased, and he would be unable to
recall that he had ever lived a differ-
ent life.” He paused as though ex-
pecting an answer, but the two could
only stare at him.

“Well, I ha%'e found the way to
control amnesia! Half of it is made
possible by chemistry, as I have said.

“I have prepared a drug that kills
all memory save that rooted in sub-

conscious, instinctive habit. When
it is taken it reacts on the brain in
such a way that all is forgotten except
such things as knowledge of mother
language and automatic remembrance
of any long-continued set of actions.
Thus if a foundryman were treated
with the drug he would continue to
be an excellent foundryman — ^but in
all other phases of life he would be
nothing but an infant with the body
of a man. He would be a machine of
flesh and blood, able to perform the
duties of his labor, but an unthinking
animal in all other respects. And
there you have some of my exper-
imental result.

“After the war and the plague, the
earthquakes and other disasters that
shall reduce mankind to a small rem-
nant of its original force, gallons of
this drug will be poured by my men
into every source of drinlnng-water.
Every spring and fountain, every well
and creek, shall be loaded with the
agent of forgetfulness. Men will be-
come automatons over night, and
when I appear they will tolerate my
rule as children give imthinking obe-
dience to powerful adults.

“There is only one drawback to
this plan of mine: The effects of the
drug are not permanent. There is
nothing to prevent these adult chil-
dren from learning all over again, and
becoming in time as they were before.
Hence, I come to the second part of
my plan.

“Through centuries of surgical ex-
periments performed by myself and
the Arab surgeon who shares my hos-
pitality, I have been able to separate,
physically, the segments of the brain
devoted to performing the different
mental functions. Among these is
the segment of memory. This is di-
vided into two parts — one which gov-
erns deep-seated, unconscious acts
accomplished by established habit,
and one which is responsible for con-
scious, remembered acts.

“ You see what this means. If a
brain could be exposed and dissected,

662

WEIRD TALES

and the part of the memory segment
removed that applied to conscious
memory — you would have a creature
capable only of continuing to perform
acts of old habit such as routme of
manual work, and incapable of re-
membering anything else or of ever
learning over again. He would be a
puppet.

“This operation I am able to per-
form. I have proved it again and
again on the brains of the subjects
whom I have commanded to be ex-
perimented on in the operating-room.

Thus by drug and surgery I shall
dull the minds of the few who will
continue to exist on earth, and will
start there a new race such as I have
created in Rez. For the administered
drug shall hold men in bondage dur-
ing the years necessary to train all
remaining surgeons to the operation
I have perfected, and during the en-
suing years I will need before all are
crippled by the knife. Before the
effects of the drug have been overcome
they shall have been made physically
incapable of ever advancing from the
state of infantile brain development.

“And noAv we come to yourselves.”

T he monstrous figure stopped its
pacing back and forth, and stood
in front of them.

“My experiments through the cen-
turies have necessarily been limited to
my orvn subjects here. They are not
normal as compared with the men
of earth. They are small-brained,
dull-witted, coarse-nerved. Therefore,
while all my last experiments have
been succe.ssfully performed on them,
it is barely possible that the perfected
operation might not be so satisfactory
with the finer intelligence of other
races. I do not think there can be a
difference. After all, the brain is the
brain, and difference of quality should
not materially affect its treatment.
Nevertheless, I want to make sure.
And to that end you were allowed to
find my kingdom.

“You two have excellent average

minds. Whatever experiment might
succeed in the dissection of your
brains would also surely be successful
with your brothers in the upper world.

“Therefore — you are both to be
used as subjects for last experiments
with knife and drug.”

Under the terrible sentence finally
pronounced upon them, Neal felt him-
self sway dizzily on the metal bench.
His illness had increased throughout
the ghastly enumeration of the plans
of Rez. The final words, combined
with his mysterious sickness, almost
downed him. It was only by making
a desperate effort that he managed to
retain a remnant of consciousness.

Whatever it was that affected him
did not extend to Sanderson. The
giant professor was straining to move,
to break the invisible chains that kept
him from leaping at the throat of the
devil who stood so maddeningly near
him. The muscles corded and rippled
on his arms and back, and perspira-
tion stood out on his face as he tried
to break the unseen grip. The effort
was useless.

The emotionless voice went on.

“To you” — the grotesque head
nodded at Sanderson — “shall be ac-
corded the privilege of submitting to
the surgical experiment. From your
brain will be extracted the bit of nerve
matter the loss of which will render
you as helpless as a child with only
the body and appearance of a man.
I will show you how it is to be done.”

Once more the light faded from the
room and a picture appeared on the
disk — a picture of the laboratory that
was being prepared to receive this last
victim of experimentation. There was
the cylindrical vacuum-inducing ma-
chine connected with tubing to the
glass bells, the odd array of strangely
designed surgical instruments, the
great glass block that should be the
operating-table, all the parapher-
nalia deemed necessary to perform the
operation perfected by Rez and the
surgeon, who, eight hundred years be-
fore, had removed the top of the evil

THE BLACK MONARCH

663

monarch’s own skull and re-covered
it with the metal hood.

“There are many interesting de-
vices in this room,” came the voice
of Rez in the darkness. “Notice the
rinay plates, for example, how they
are grouped about the operating-block
and even placed to shine up through
it. Those plates, because of the heal-
ing rays they give off, are my anti-
septics and my instantaneous repair-
ing agents. Under them, lensed as
they are, an open wound begins to
heal in from eight to fourteen seconds
— a speed that admits of wonders in
the way of rejoining sundered tissues
before the blood has coagulated.

“Among the instruments you will
observe an invention of mine that
looks like a pair of forceps sharpened
at the ends to a cutting edge. After
the scalp has been laid back over the
spot that covers the part of the brain
we want removed, this device is placed
against the skull. Then it is turned
luider pressure, cutting away a cir-
cular section of bone. With another
specially curved knife the section of
brain that possesses power of con-
scious memory is scooped out as one
would cut a rotten spot from an
apple. Immediately the blood is
sponged clear for the few seconds re-
quired by the healing power of the
rinay plates to form a surface over the
hole. Then the circle of living bone is
replaced in the skull, the scalp is
sewn back — and in less than two
hours there is onlj’- a scar left to show
that the operation has taken place.

“All that is needed is a pair of
deftly trained hands. I will let you
see the man who is to operate on you. ’ ’

The picture changed and they saw
a room much like the two in which
they themselves were confined. In
this a man paced dully up and down.
His eyes were alternately lusterless
and gleaming. On his hands were
fabric gloves. As he walked back and
forth his lips moved tremulously with
soundless words. Now his gloved

hands were brandished as though he
were being threatened by unseen
things; then he would relapse into
listlessness, pacing back and forth,
shoulders stooped and lips mumbling
aimlessly.

As he watched, Sanderson felt a
further shock of horror. The wild
eyes, the loose lips, the maniac bran-
dishing of hands

“He’s insane!” he exclaimed.
‘ ‘ Hopelessly insane ! And this is the
man who handles the knife?”

“He is the man,” was the emotion-
less answer. “As for his insanity —
what would you expect from a bril-
liant mind imprisoned solitarily for
eight centuries? His insanity, how-
ever, does not prevent him from being
a very fine surgeon. And he loves his
work with the knives. . . .” The
pause that followed was eloquent.

“So much for the surgical part of
the experiment, ’ ’ resumed Rez. ‘ ‘ Now
for the drug.”

He faced Neal. “You are the sub-
ject chosen for that. From you I
shall learn if the drug reacts in as sat-
isfactory a manner on the more intelli-
gent men of earth as it has reacted on
the men of Rez. And, later — say a
year from now — you too will be put
imder the knife and will undergo the
same operation. ...”

Neal tried to rise to his feet. He
seemed to be surrounded by a haze
through which he could only dimly
make out the hated form of Rez — the
huge metal helmet, the glaring, cold
eyes. Over his senses was fast descend-
ing the unconsciousness he had held
off for so long. But he made a last
effort.

“ I ’ll never take your damned
drug!” he said, trying to shout the
words and only succeeding in whisper-
ing them. “You’ll not experiment
with me as though I were a rat in a
dissecting-room! I’ll kill myself be-
fore I’ll swallow your stuff ”

For an instant Rez faced the sway-
ing figure, noting the red-streaked

664

WEIRD TALES

eyes and the purple tint of the lips.
Then he delivered the sentence that
was to be the last message Neal would
ever hear from him. As he pro-
nounced it, it is probable that he
smiled behind his metal hood — if in-
deed he had a mouth to smile with.

“You have already taken it,” came
the soundless words. “In the meal
you ate before I summoned you here,
the drug was sprinkled which shall
make you a child again with only the
stature of a man. In about five hours
the chemical will have run its full
course. . . .”

For a moment Neal stared at him,
trying to speak, to shout a last defi-
ance. Then he slipped from the bench
and sagged to the floor at the feet of
his captor. Sanderson could only
gaze at the limp figure and writhe in
a rage that approached madness.

The glaring eyes were turned coldly
on him.

“To insure that he will not make
away with himself in ease he should
resume consciousness for an instant
before the drug has fully reacted, he
will be tied. As for you — there are
still a few hours left you in the pres-
ent possession of your mental facul-
ties. The laboratory is not quite
ready for your reception. I shall sum-
mon you when your time comes. ’ ’

He turned abruptly and approached
the curtains near the disk. Without
a backward look he drew them aside,
entered the room behind the jewel, and
replaced them to cover the doorway.

In a moment, as though summoned,
the guard leader appeared at the
other doorway. With him were four
of the automatons of Rez. They bound
Sandei'son with fabric cords while the
spell of Rez still held him powerless;
and then they bore him to the rooms
that formed their prison. The bound
body of Neal was placed in one room,
and Sanderson, equally tnissed, was
thrown on the floor of the other. The
heavy metal door between was closed,
and the men withdrew.

14. The Drug of Forgetfulness

S anderson strained at his fabric
bonds till the skin was tom from
his wrists and ankles, but it was im-
possible for him to free himself. The
knots had been tied too cunningly, and
there was no slack in them for even
his huge strength to expand. At
length he lay still, listening for sounds
of life from Neal. From the other
room he could hear his heavy breath-
ing and an occasional mufiled struggle
as though he too were straining at
bonds too tight to loosen. Occasion-
ally there was a groan ; and now and
then a mutter of indistinguishable
words. Finally the infrequent strug-
gling ceased, but the muttering grew
louder until it was the raving of a
man in delirium.

Incoherent phrases came to Sander-
son ’s ears — of childhood reminiscence,
of shouted defiance to Rez, of dreamy
mumbling about the lovely voice that
came from behind the disk. Now the
drugged man was speaking earnestly
to his father, advising him, imploring
him against the execution of some
disastrous idea. Now he was search-
ing again for the crevice that should
lead do^vn to the kingdom of the evil
genius. But most of all he was talk-
ing softly to the voice of the girl be-
hind the diamond.

In his raving he endowed the voice
with personality and soul, and wor-
shiped it with glowing words. For-
gotten was the lifeless body from
which the voice was drawn, foi'gotten
the rigid limbs and still, closed eyes.
The voice remained, and it was only
too apparent that the sick man had
hopelessly lost his heart to the voice.
Thoughts were repeated that he would
never have spoken aloud in conscious-
ness — prayers to death to release the
spirit it held; vows that in death he
would join her there, lying by her
side; entreaties to the monster with
the metal head to give her back to
life. All other concerns were thrust
aside in the infatuation for a voice is-

THE BLACK MONARCH

665

suing from a still, pallid throat. And
then he was shouting defiance to Rez
again, threatening him, laughing,
planning to smash the jewel that was
the secret of his power.

Shuddering, the professor tried to
stop his ears to the insane raving of
^ the man who had been sane and well
' until callously submitted to the scien-
tific experiment of the devil who
schemed to be king of the world. Then
he too went mad for a few moments
and struggled against the cords that
held him and shouted aloud his hatred
of the e\al being who held them cap-
tive.

Let him come to grips with Rez but
once, and after that they could do
what they liked with him? In ex-
change for the pleasure of tearing at
the muscular flesh under the mon-
ster’s age-old skin, he would give his
body to them for any torture they
could devise !

He calmed himself with an effort
and engaged again in the frtiitless
planning that had occupied him since
their imprisonment.

To attack Rez, he must be able to
break the iron clamp of inertia with
which his enemy could freeze him at
will. To break that immobility he
must smash the diamond disk. But
he could not smash the disk so long as
he was held helpless by its hypnotic
exaggeration of the will of Rez !

In memory he saw the screened
hole in the great throat at the base of
the metal skixll. He heard the slight
hiss- of air inhaled and expelled with
the monster’s breathing. If he could
free himself from the spell of Rez and
clamp his hand over that airhole

IV/fEAN WHILE the moaning and de-
lirious raving from Neal in the
next room had finally stopped. He
was breathing hea\’ily, but evenly, and
after a time the breathing grew' more
and more peaceful until it could no
longer be heard over the intervening
distance. Neal was now imtroubled

by pain — physical pain, at least. He
was sleeping soundly and normally
after the ordeal through which he had
passed. The drug of forgetfulness had
run its course.

Sanderson tried to imagine what
his comrade would be like when he
woke. It all depended on the degree
of efficiency of the drug. If he should
be afflicted mth complete loss of mem-
ory it would be terrible indeed! He
would have to learn to walk again —
to speak, to perform by conscious
effort the things a child of five has
learned to do. He would be a weakly
sprawling new-born infant with the
size and muscles of a man. Horrible !

This, however, was not in accord-
ance with the plans of Rez. The in-
fliction of so thorough an amnesia on
him would defeat his own ends. He
had indicated, rather, that Neal would
wake to an ignorance of all his life
save that of early childhood and those
acts based on deep-rooted habit. He
would be a harmless idiot, a placid
case of arrested development. Or,
perhaps — r-

Hope came to the professor for an
instant. Perhaps — ^he would remain
unchanged ? Was not Rez confessedly
experimenting with his drug? And
would he trouble to experiment at all
if he were sure of the drug’s effects?
Also — and the remembrance caused
him to hope further — Neal had eaten
less than half of the food in which
the drug was mixed. It might be that
the reaction would be correspondingly
half as strong and not lasting!

It was a slender chance, but it was
something to which to cling in this
hour of the defeat of all their aims.
Sanderson tried to believe that it
would come true, and forced his
thoughts away from the other, more
dreadful surmises. He relaxed his
bound muscles and waited to see if he
should be released before the hour of
his own fate in the weirdly designed
dissecting-room or if he should be
carried there still bound and helpless.

666

WEIRD TALES

H e was to have physical freedom to
the last, it seemed. After a long
time the outer door was unbarred and
swung open ; and the guard leader on
duty appeared. He walked calmly to
the professor ’s side and unloosed the
cords. Then as calmly he turned his
back and walked away.

It is probable that his life was saved
by the fact that Sanderson ’s legs and
arms were numb with the cramp of
his bonds. As it was, while he was
trying to rise to his feet and strike the
man down in his murderous sorrow,
the guard leader covered the distance
to the door. The heavy metal barrier
was swung shut, and the bars could be
heard grating into place.

The professor clutched at a table to
help support his uncertain body, and
limped into the next room to see at
last how great had been the change
w'Tought by the fateful drug.

Neal was still sleeping, wound
around by the cords, when he reached
his side. With clumsy fingers he un-
did the knots, and as he fumbled with
them his friend stirred. At length
he opened his eyes. In them could
be seen the first of the indications of
his metamorphosis.

Their habitual blue seemed to have
been lightened by several shades. TTie
whites were clearer than the whites
of maturity, and they were opened
wide with curiosity. Expressionless,
imrecognizing, they stared at the
bearded face as though they had
never seen it before.

On his countenance was further
mark of the change. The faint lines
of forehead and cheek, the lines that
tell of adult experience as printed
words tell a message, were gone —
leaving the wondering look of a child.
The drug had worked as Rez had
promised!

Neal gazed perplexedly at the cords
that bound him. Then his wide eyes
came back to the big man who was
bending anxiously over him.

“Who are you?” he asked, and
even his voice was so altered that San-

derson would not have recognized it
had he not known who was speaking.

“lam Sanderson, ” he replied, mak-
ing his answer slow and distinct in
the hope that some word should strike
a wakening note and help recall the
vanished memory. “Your name is
Neal Emory. We are in the kingdom
of Rez. Oh, my God! Can’t you un-
derstand me?”

“Yes — I tmderstand what you are
saying, but what does it mean? What
is the kingdom of Rez ? ’ ’

For nearly an hour the professor
fought to restore a shade of the mind
that had been smothered by the drug.
Every effort was useless. At the end
of that time the blue eyes looked at
him as perplexed as before, and the
face was as expressionless as the face
of a puppet of Rez.

There was only one ray of comfort
in his actions: He parrotted the
words Sanderson repeated, and
seemed able to retain them in his
mind. Thus at the end of an hour he
had learned that his name was Neal
Emory, that he was in the kin^om of
Rez, and that Rez was an evil giant
who had reduced him to his present
state of helplessness.

“Reduced — me to my — present —
state?” Like a child given a problem
too abstruse for its ability to solve, he
stumbled over the phrase. Sander-
son tried to tell him what he had been
like yesterday ; but yesterday, and the
yesterdays before that, were gone from
the di’Ugged brain. As Rez had said,
in time he might have been taught
over again. But time, of course,
would be denied him — he was to un-
dergo a further deadening operation
in a year.

Sanderson jumped to his feet and
strode around the room, hitting out
with his fists as though he felt them
sinking into the body of the inhuman
monster who had wrought this change.
And Neal watched him with wide,
wondering eyes, as though puzzled by
the violence of the big man with the

THE BLACK MONARCH

6«7

black beard who had been telling him
about the queer place he called the
kingdom of Rez.

Then, shortly, he picked up a piece
of the cord that had bound him, and
began to tie knots in it, smiling with
pleasure when he succeeded in tying
a more than usually intricate or amtis-
ing one.

It was ■while Sanderson was sadly
watching the infantile gesture that he
got the first glimmer of an idea that
sent him pacing to a table where he
could sit do^vn, buiy his head in his
hands, and think it out step by step
to a possible miraculous conclusion —
an idea that seemed to hold a chance
of snapping the thralldom of Rez !

The professor i*eeommenced the
hopeless-appearing circle of scheming :
To attack Rez he must first destroy
the hold of the disk. To destroy the
disk he must break the hpnotic coma
imposed on him by the will of Rez in
conjunction with the jewel. Do this
he could not. But — perhaps Neal
could ! And point for point he worked
it out.

The power of Rez was dominion of
mind — of intelligence. By imposing
his will on the minds of others he
made them move or stand motionless
as he pleased. However — he must
have mind to work unfh!

He had made the statement, cas-
ually, that he could not dominate an-
imals because they had no intelligence
to dominate. The lower in the mental
scale a brain might be, the less chance
Rez had of controlling it.

Here he looked at Neal again. In
administering the drug to him, Rez
had smothered all his fine intelligence.
Had he not, perhaps, unwittmgly
prepared a creature capable of defy-
ing his rule? Here was a man with a
brain temporarily no more, acute than
that of a kindergarten pupil or an
advanced animal. Was it possible
that this absence of a mind to control
might be the undoing of Rez ?

The theory was worth a trj*. Call-
ing to Neal, he began to coach him,

as one would an infant, in a task he
wanted him to do.

I T WAS some little while before Neal
learned his lesson, and the profes-
sor groaned at the length of time re-
quired. Should Rez ever turn his
attention to the new occupation of his
prisoners he would learn the whole
scheme. Perhaps even now he was
watching them in the disk, reading
his thoughts, laughing at the tenuous
plan being prepared for his annihila-
tion. But this was a chance that must
be risked; and again and again San-
derson drilled his pupil in the course
of action he must pursue.

“When we are in the room of the
disk, you must stand perfectly still
until I have given you the signal.
When I say ‘Now ! ’ you will pick up a
bench — a metal bench like this one I
am sitting on, and ram it against the
disk as hard as you can. Against the
disk,” he reiterated. “It is a large
bhie stone you will see at one end of
the room. Like this.” He traced a
circle with his forefinger in the nap
of the carpet. “Do jmu understand?”

“Yes,” said Neal, frowning a little.
“When you say ‘Now,’ I am to pick
up a metal bench like the one you are
sitting on, and ram it against the
round blue stone at the end of the
room.” He frowned again. “What
does ‘ram’ mean?”

Sanderson explained. ‘ ‘ It means to
hit as hard as you can.”

“I am to hit the stone with the
bench as hard as I can,” Neal repeat-
ed dutifully.

“Yes. Now we’ll try it here, to see
if you know what to do. ’ ’

He scratched a circle against one
wall of the room. Then he led Neal
to the door and acted as though they
had just entered. ‘ ‘ Pretend tliis is the
room I have been telling j'ou about.”
he urged. “There is the round stone”
— he pointed to the circle — ^“that you
are to break.”

According to the coaching he had

668

WEIRD TALES

received, Neal stood perfectly still be-
side the door. “Now!” said Sander-
son, and at once Neal picked up a
bench and moved placidly toward the
circle.

“No, no! You must be more quick.
And stand nearer the circle. As soon
as you come in the door, go over near
the circle. We’ll tiy it again.”

Once more they pretended to have
entered the disk room. Neal walked
over to the circle and stood gazing in-
tently at it. Everything seemed right,
but just before Sanderson gave the
signal he paused to look at him and
remarked to himself on the intensity
of his staring.

“What are you thinking about?”
he demanded suddenly.

“I am thinking about the circle I
am to hit with the bench when you
say ‘Now’,” answered Neal.

Sanderson sighed as he realized how
many fatally weak points there were
in this plan of his.

“But you miistn’t think about it,”
he expostulated patiently. “If you
think about it, Rez might know what
you’re thinking — and he wouldn’t let
you break the stone. ”

“If I don’t think about it, how will
I know when to break it?”

“Think about me, and then when I
say the word you nm straight to the
disk.”

“I will try,” was the doubtful an-
swer, and the rehearsal went on. By
the time the guard leader came in
with their meal, Sanderson was satis-
fied that Neal had learned his lesson
as well as could be expected. There
was a chance, of course, that all their
work was for nothing. Rez might
have turned his disk on them, learned
their plans, and be ready to frustrate
them. He might not allow Neal to
accompany him when he went again to
the tower room — if, indeed, he was to
go again, and not be conducted di-
rectly to the laboratory without see-
ing his adversary! He might order
that Neal be bound before he was ad-
mitted to his presence. It might even

be — and this was his most persistent
doubt — ^that Rez could continue to
hold Neal helpless with his will in
spite of the change in his brain power!
Horvever, they had done everything
possible. There was now nothing left
to do but to wait and see what hap-
pened.

He turned to the meal of the vege-
table, and motioned Neal to do the
same. But before he began to eat, he
cautiously tasted the stuff to see if
there were arry of the drug in his own
porliorr. As far as he could ascertain
there was rrorre; and methodically he
fed hiitrself to conserwe every atom of
his strerrgth.

H ardly had they finished eating
whetr the guard leader appeared
with the command that they present
themselves in the disk room of Rez.
The professor sighed with relief as he
used the plural form. They! Neal
was to go with him after all, and,
appar*ently, rmbormd. One passible
obstacle was thrust aside.

But as they ascended the ramp be-
side the stolid lieutenant, he could not
help brooding over the other weak
poitrts in the plan that was their last
charrce. If Rez were prepared for the
attack, or if he should be warned by
Neal’s thought of what he must do at
the given signal, or if Neal should for-
get some point in the course of action

he was to follow

Hastily he switched his mind to
Other thoughts, realizing that he him-
self would be the one to give mental
warning to Rez if he could not con-
centrate on some other subject. As
they entered the draped doorway he
was thinking resolutely what he
would do to the evil monarch if he
ever managed to close with him. Let
Rez read that thought if he chose !

In the room of the disk they walked
unhindered to a metal bench within
ten feet of the great diamond. There
Sanderson felt himself clamped by
the familiar intangible bonds, as
though the air around him had solidi-

THE BLACK MONARCH

669

fied and held him. He glanced at
Neal out of the comer of his eye. He,
too, was motionless. Was it because
he was following instructions to stand

perfectly still, or was he

Des^rately Sanderson turned his
betraying thoughts to other channels
lest Rez should read them and be
warned of the attempt against him.
And then the curtains were drawn
aside, and he saw the detestable cylin-
drical head. Carelessly, serene in the
knowledge that his prisoners could
not move against his will, the great
figure strode toward them and halted
almost within reach.

O NE of the most difficult of all
things to control is a man’s own
thoughts. Confronted with the neces-
sity of thinking of anything else in
the world but the plan which was
about to be tried, the professor bit his
lips in an effort to keep his mind on
other subjects. Under the glare of
those chill, distoided eyes as Rez stood
before them, he must keep his brain a
blank to the doubts and fears, the sus-
pense of Neal’s

Here he stopped himself again.
Even doubts and feare would expose
to the mind of Rez their plot. . . .

“You are thinking of some plot,’’
Rez snapped him up, still staring at
his captive. “And you are thinking
that you must not hai'bor its details
in your mind for fear I A^dll read the
thoAight and be Avarned. Is that not
right?’’

Sanderson did not x’eply. He closed
his eyes and, Avith attempted self-con-
trol, directed his thoughts on the
disk and what he would do if it Avere
broken.

“It AAdll ncA'er be broken,’’ Rez an-
swered, as though he had spoken
aloud. lie turned his back to them
and began to pace sloAA’ly up and
down the big room while he flashed his
woi’ds by telepathy.

“It is amazing hoAV men of your
caliber can cling to foolish hopes. You
would accomplish the impossible, at-

tain the unattainable, conquer the un-
conquerable. And Avith all your in-
telligence you are too stupid to know
when you are beaten.

“For years you and Eden worked
to discover me. You finally succeed-
ed. At the same time you diseoA’ered
unmistakably that I was far more
poAverful than any other on earth.
Yet with the knowledge ever in your
mind that you Avere hopelessly out-
classed, you persisted in planning my
destruction.

“Arrived near my subterranean
kingdom, you searched for weeks to
find an entrance. You failed day
after day. You must haA'c knoAA'ii that
you Avould never find it if I chose to
keep you from it. You must liaA'e de-
cided that I knew yoixr plans and your
intentions of hunting me out, and that
I should never let you accomplish
those plans if I could help it. Yet you
continued to search, refusing to admit
that you Avcre sure to be baffled.

“I caused an enti’anee to be laid
bare to you. It must have been ap-
parent that it was a trap. Yet you
walked in and eventually came before
me.

“You saAv me as you see me now,
and foimd out that you AA'ere not only
my inferior physically — but that you
Avere unable even to moA’e in my di-
rection! My Avill holds you fimly,
yet, I’ealizing to the full that you are
beaten, you refuse to admit it. Yoix
staxid there trying to keep your mind
from some futile plot you haA'e con-
trived 1 ’ ’

Up and doAAui the room AA'cnt the
gigantic figure, the metal hood turn-
ing stiffly with the motion of the shoul-
ders. Now he AA^as right beside them,
now thirty feet aAA'ay. Sanderson, un-
able even to turn his head, folloAved
his movements AAuth his eyes. Thirty
feet aAvay. . . .

“And Avhat is the result of your
yeai*s of training, your life of self-
denial, your labor to xxncoA'er my hid-
ing-place?’’ the AA'ords rolled on. “The
result is comic! As a rewax’d you

670

WEIRD TALES

stand befoi’e me on the brink of sub-
mitting to a brain operation that shall
make you a pitiful, mindless thing — a
machine, helpless until I tell you what
tasks you shall perform for me. And
your companion stands beside you re-
duced to the mental status of a five-
year-old child, a victim of one of my
chemical expeiiments ! ' ’

Hardly heeding the taunting words
in his effort to control his thought,
Sandereon gazed, fascinated, at the
careless way the great figure moved
about the room. Now almost in reach
— now j-ards away. It would take
several seconds to retrace that dis-
tance. . . .

“As for interfering Avith my Avorld
rulership ambition — your puny ef-
forts have been even more amusing.
This very day, from tlie time you were
carried out of liere until a moment
before you returned in answer to my
command, I have received fresh proof
from the disk that my world war is
almost ready to be inaugurated. I
have reviewed the decisions of twenty
conferences in as many different na-
tions. Each has determined to declare

war as soon as China or America shall
touch a match to the powder pile.”

The professor stared grimly at the
airhole in the base of the heavy
throat. Superman as Eez was in brain
and body, he was yet mortal. A few
seconds without air and he would
twist and gasp as any lesser man
might do.

And noAv he was coming toward
them. In a moment he would be near
— then he would wheel and walk to
the other end of the room. . . .

“ ‘ Soon you will be led' fi'om here to
the laboratory which is now ready to
i-eceiA’e you. After the operation and
its confirmation of my brain theories,
I sliall start the cataclysm I have pre-
pared. China shall open hostil-
ities ”

He was nearly at the end of the
chamber. A few more paces and
he would turn again. Thirty feet
aAvay. . . .

The time had come !

“Noav!” snapped Sanderson to
Neal, his voice cracking on the word.
“Now!”

The thrilling conclusion of this story ivill be told
in next month's WEIRD TALES

M y FATHP]R would liave been
a great scientist if he had
lived. ]\Iy mother told me
that, and thought so: but there were
others who thought -so, too — a man
with keen eyes and a clipped beard
who used to visit our house, and a
carelessly dressed, short, stout woman
whose name amounted to something,
and one or two otliers. My father,
who died when I was only a year old,
had coined the phrase “light-echoes”
in connection with some physical-
chemical theories which had the Ein-
stein theory for a jumping-off imint.
Those theories involving light-echoes
were never proved, and they make
rather heavy reading ; but they stand
back of the love story I am writing
down, and I’ll try to make them clear
as 1 go along.

There can be no end to a story of

true love — I have reason to know.
Yet this particular love story would
be said by most people to have ended
six years before the time I have to
write about, in that strangest year of
my life when I was seven.

I remember sittmg in my little
room upstairs, and listening to my
mother as she talked with a friend
down on the porch below. I had
stayed up there because I was in an
indigo mood, which I wanted to hide
from my mother. We two loved each
other in a tender way that somehow
hurt. It was as if we were foi’ever
trying to shield each other from some
bitter pain of loss. That loss, I had
understood for years, was the loss of
my father. I might have forgotten
the ache to have a father as other
children had, if I hadn’t always been
reminded of it by Mother’s smile.

672

WEIED TALES

That smile looked too much like what
it was — a way to keep from crying. I
had been far too young to understand
when first she wore it for me — ^but
now I did.

“Little Sheila is lonesome, since
^e’s back from visiting her cousins.
I always meant her to have at least
one brother or sister — I’ve alwaj'S
pitied only children. Well, I’ve made
a fight for it, haven’t I, Helena? I’ve
tri^ to. And I love Sheila inexpress-
ibly. But to be separated from
Michael, year after year after year!
How can I make Sh^a happy, when
I’m not? God meant every child to
have a happy mother.

“If I’d a nice sum of money to
leave her, I think I’d — join Michael.
Some way, I would. Only — only — if I
killed myself, my punishment might
be to lose my way — to lose him for-
ever. And besides, if I can’t make
Sheila happy, at least I can work for
her. I wish she were one of my sis-
ter’s brood. She’d grow up happy
like them — ^be more apt to marry hap-
pily, I believe — to find her soul’s
eternal mate, as I found mine in
Slichael.’’

My mother’s friend was breaking in
with little soothing sounds, and sa3dng
“Don’t, Dinorah!’’ I squared my
small shoulders and started down the
stairs. As I passed the long mirror in
the hall, I recognized the look on my
childish face — a replica of that look
of my mother’s face that hurt my
heart. I, too, was smiling to keep
from ciying.

After the friend had gone, I
dragged ray mother into the house to
sing for me. She had a beautiful
coloratura voice which she would use
only for me. Already she was teach-
ing me to .sing — ^little tuneful songs
that couldn’t hurt a child’s unformed
voice. But she would sing all kinds
of difficult things for me — the Polo-
tiaise from Mignon, and the Shadow
Song from Dinorah, from which my
grandmother had taken mother’s

name. I begged for the Shadow Song
this afternoon, and got it.

It fired my imagination, and I
didn’t care to ask for other songs. In-
stead, I drew my mother out of doors
to walk in the garden, and there I
danced aroimd her, pixy-like — pre-
tending that I was the light flitting
shadow in the song. I made myself
dizzy and stopped at her side, cling-
ing to her hand to steady myself;
and after a minute my eyes must still
have been swimming, for suddenly I
cried out loudly and turned to look
behind us, leaning across my mother
and peering excitedly.

Her hand was on my tousled hair
in its caressing, protecting way, and
her voice was in my ear, and there
was no one in the garden but us two.
But to her questions I replied, half
ashamed of my excitement, yet in-
sistently :

“'There was a man. Walking beside
you. Mother, or else coming up from
behind us on the other side from me.
No, I didn’t see him at all — ^just his
shadow. Yes, it was as plain as our
two shadows, going on before us. A
tall, broad-shouldered man-shadow,
walking with yours.’’

I can see my mother yet as she
looked then. She had turned, too, and
the late slanting sunlight fell upon
her face and made a shining halo of
her bobbed silver hair. How unusual
she must have be«i, with her face of
a child and her hair! But there was
a new thing in her smile, something
imignantly wistful and fearfully
hopeftil that made my heart beat hard
with excitement.

“Sheila — you’re sure — ^you’re cer-
tain?’’ she kept saying. And then:
“You’re seven. You’re old enough to
understand, I think. And you and I
should be so clo.se together — out of all
the world, we were his — we are his!’’
she corrected firmly. “I used to keep
a diary, Sheila, and tomorrow I’m
going to show it to you. And you’ve
heard Pi’ofessor Ambler and Miss

LIGHT-ECHOES

673

Weir speak of your father’s theories?
I’m goiag to tell you about some of
them, too.”

I remember that when I fell asleep
that night I no longer missed my
cousins. There was a new feeling in
our hoiise. It was as if all the clocks
had been stopped ever since I eould
rmnember — and were set going again.

'T^uk next evening my mother called
me into her room. She took two
books out of a drawer of her desk, and
we sat down together on the floor. I
could read, of course — ^I was far ad-
vanced for a child of seven, because
mother had taught me evenings and
holidays to read and write, paint and
sing for the joy of it. But toni^t
she readi to me, in a voice that was
steady by an ^ort, by the light of
her rose- and pearl-shaded li^it. I
have the pages from which she read
before me now as I write. She read
first from her diary, and she read
backward, beginning with the more
recently written parts. I was sur-
prized and thrill^ to hear first a
description of yesterday’s scene in our
garden.

Then she read a few brief descrip-
tions of things I remembered, little
doings and sariugs of mine. She was
leading my mind back through my
earlier childliood, back towa^ my
infancy.

“Do you remember?” she would
ask; and I would nod or shake my
head. It got so that I generally had
to shake it, and she would sigh a
little. But she had gone as far back
as my second birthday now, and my
memories were very slight. I thought
I could remember a tiny cake with
just two pink candles on it; but what
followed I did not recall at all. I have
the page before me.

“After Sheila blew out her two
candles, a strange thing happened.
My heari is singing. Dear Mikael, is
thie veil wearing thin — ^is it to be rent
at last, after this weary year?

“I was sitting a little while in the
W. T.— 3

west window of my room, Sheila play-
in g at my feet and running around
the room. Her bedtime in a few mo-
ments — ^yet I must have fallen asleep.

“Sheila’s cry woke me suddenly:
‘Muwer — Muwer! Who is he? Why
does he kiss your hair?’

“Startled and dazed, I looked at
Sheila. She wasn’t looking at me.
She seemed to be staring at my re-
flection in the window. But as I fol-
lowed her gaze she ran to me, and so
I could, see our two reflections there,
bright in the li^t of my lamp. It
was a pretty picture, too; but Sheila
saw something else — something that I
didn’t see, for she cried again: ‘He
likes to see us together like this —
doesn ’t he, Muwer? As he goes away,
he smilee.’

“I looked — I strained my eyes.
Michael — could it be — your ‘light-
eehoes’ ? But why couldn ’t I see you,
too? Wkyf Once when you were liv-
ing, I saw you with something like
what the Scotch call second sight.
Can’t I see you now because I’m
grief-blinded ? Or because, if I saw
you, I must go to you?

“And I must stay with Sheila. Dear
little Sheila. Yours, and like you.
Mine to keep safe for you, till she
doesn’t need me so much.

“But if only you could come to me.
So that I could see you, Michael. Oh,
Michael, my love.”

I have written it as my mother had
written it. In reading it to me that
night she improvised as she did when
she read blo^-eurdling nursery tales
— ^making her pitifid little diary
sound lees sad.

And after that she skipped quite a
section of pages, turning them over
as thou^ ^e herself co^d not bear
to look at them. Her face was pale.

“I’m going back to the time before
your facer’s death,” she explained
quickly. “Here’s the thing I was
looking for. About seeing him with
second si^t.”

And this next she read in a happier

674

WfilRD TALES

tone, a tone which seemed^to belong
to happier days. ' "

“Last night a strange thing, hap-
pened. Michael and I had been on the
way to having a quarrel. No use
putting down the reason; but I felt
quite worked up, and it might have
been a serious quarrel — but all at once
a phrase came into my mind as
though someone had said it to me;
‘The heart in my bosom is not my
own.’ I think I had read it some-
whei’e; but only those words came to
my mind, without their context.

“Well, they seemed to describe my
marriage to Michael, as no other
words could. When we were first mar-
ried, I dreamed one night that, some-
how, we exchanged souls. Afterward,
we often dreamed the same dream to-
gether — and even things of a stranger
nature were always happening to us.
I was away on a visit once, and had
a cinder in my eye; but I didn’t men-
tion it in writing to Michael, for fear
that it would -worry him. One night,
at last, I ‘slept it out'; and after
that I -wi’ote him about it, and how I
had feared that I would have to go
to an optician. It developed that on
the night when the cinder di.sappeared
from my eye, Michael had di’eamed
of me, and — of taking something out
of my eye!

“The quarrel between us vanished
like a wisp of cloud before the sun. I
was in the kitchen that night, .just
before I went to bed. Suddenly I saw
a veiy clear reflection of Michael in
the Idtchen window. He was in bed,
reading: and as I looked at his re-
flection he put down the book, tunied
on his elbow toward me, and smiled.
The light seemed to shift, somehow,
and the I'eflection vanished. But in
the moment of its vanishing, I was
conscious of an odd sensation ; a feel-
ing as though I had been spying on
Michael in some unusual and very
out-of-the-ordinary way. That was
the more peculiar, because in all our
married life I was never at any other
time conscious of such a feeling.

“I stood there thinking. I couldn’t
see how the reflection had gotten
there, anyway. The kitchen and bed-
room windows were parallel — we were
occupying a small apartment-7— and
any windows opposing them didn’t
seem to be x’ightly placed to throw
the image.

“At any rate Michael -would be
interested. He knew all about reflec-
tions. He would explain this one. He
had smiled in my direction, as I saw
him in the Avindow. But had his eyes
met mine? Had he seen me, too?

‘ ‘ I i*an into the bedroom. ‘ Michael ! ’
I cried: ‘Did you see me in the win-
dow — ^my reflection ? As I saw yours ? ’
‘In what window?’ Michael asked,
quietly. ‘A reflection thrown in some
roundabout way from the bedroom
into the kitchen w'indow,’ I explained.
Michael said, gently: ‘Look at the
bedroom windows. They are as they
have been all evening.’

“I looked at the windoAvs. T/ie;/
iverc shuttered on the inside. I begair
to tremble. I felt as though I AA'ere
losing my mind. ‘But Michael! I

saw you ’ I told him hoAV he had

laid doAA-n his book, and turned in my
direction, and .smiled. ‘JMieliael! I’m
— .scared. Am I crazy ? What Avas it ?
What does it mean?’

“hlichael smiled — as he had smiled
at me from the AA’indoAv. ‘I think,’ he
said softly, ‘I think it means that yoix
love me \evy much — so much that
your senses are quickened. For I did
exactly what you saAV me do. I heard
your footstep in the kitchen, and from
somewhere I heard a scuffling noise.
Pei’haps a rat inside the AA’alls, or
something. AnyhoAV, I turned to lis-
ten — ^wondering if you Avere all right.
Then somehow I felt that you Avere —
and I remember that I smiled — thuik-
ing how much I loA’ed you ! ’

“ ‘The heart in my bosom is not
my own. ’ Michael, how I loA’e you —
how you love me! If one of us were
to die, I know the other could not
live.”

LIGHT-ECHOES

675

M y MOTHER closed the book quick-
ly. “I won’t read you about the
light-echoes. No one understands them,
except a little bit. I’ll try to explain
the little I understand myself by
drawing some pictures,” she said.

She drew a straight line, and tried
to make me understand it as a one-
dimensional world; then she drew a
square and a circle— two-dimensional
figures; and then sketched in a cube.
By rolling a ball smoothly and mak-
ing it skip, she tried to show me how
a thing could vanish by passing into
a new dimension : ” You see, where the
ball would have rolled to, there’s no
ball ; but the ball passed exactly over
that spot — ^through the air. If you
lived in just two dimensions on the
floor there, you’d say there was no
ball ; but it was existing all the time.
Do you understand that?”

‘ ‘ I — think so ! ” I said doubtfully.
“Well, do you understand that if
there is a fourth dimension — and if
we aren’t fitted out with the senses, or
the tuiderstanding, or something, to
see into that fourth dimension-^o
you see it’s the same thing — sort of?”

Mother and I might have been two
little girls puzzling over a knotty
problem in home-work. Her pretty
silver hair might have been tow-hair.
Supposing she weren’t my mother at
all, but the sister I knew in the bottom
of my heart I’d rather have now?
(Gang age, my mother called me,
didn’t she?)

I snapped back to the question of
the dimensions. I thought intensely,
hastily. Yes, of course, if there were
a fourth dimension and we couldn’t

see into it or understand it

“Yes, we’d think things weren’t,
when maybe they were. Even when
they were quite near.”

“You’re quick and clever like your
father,” Mother approved. “And
here’s something more, Sheila. At
night you can’t see things. But even
at night, there’s some light, and there
are the things. Your eyes can’t see
them, that’s all — because they are too

crude. And there are more colors in
the rainbow than you can see. Your
eyes don’t understand how to see
them.”

I twisted my foot inside my shoe,
and ran my fingers through the back
of my hair. My mother understood
that I was interested, and yet that it
was hard for me to listen long and
think hard. Her hand joined my
hand in ruffling my hair.

“Sheila,” she whispered, “I don’t
think people die. I think conscious-
ness — individuality — deep thought —
love, most of all — those are the real
thin^, and — ^they can’t die. This floor
we sit on is an illusion, really — a great
emptiness filled with tiny moving
specks of energy — those aren’t just
the right words, but they’ll do. T^en
your father died, the part of him that
people saw with their crude eyes — thai

part was destroyed — it became ”

She shivered. There was a dark look
on her face, but then a light shone
through.

“Your father — ^my Michael,” she
went on, “was a being made of other
things than carbon and hydrogen.
Brilliant intellect — ^humor — ^love — his
dark eyes with the love in them, the
mouth with its firm and tender look
and its little twists of happiness and
laughter — they still mtist be. So I be-
lieve in an astral body — and I don’t
know exactly what I mean by that,
except that it lives on. The Bible
says: ‘^Yhen this corruption puts on
incorruption.’ Your father belie%’ed
in immortality, and he was a very
clever man and a sound physicist of
the new school.

“Now, the light-echoes. Your father
believed tliat everything that exists
for us in three dimensions exists also
•in four; and that on rare occasions,
when people see things that simply
‘aren’t there,’ they are really seeing
queer reflections from that fourth
dimension. He called these reflections
light-echoes, to distinguiidi them from
oi’dinaiy reflections or ordinary light.
According to Einstein and other

676

WEIED TALES

pliysieists, nothing can travel faster
than light — ^but your -father thought
that some matter vibrations and some
light vibrations do travel faster than
that maximum known speed, and can
not be perceived or detected because
they are projected by their very speed
— or bounced, as the bail was bounced,
into the fourth dimension. Light-
echoes travel faster than light as we
know it in our*three dimensions.

“I saw your father’s image through
closed shutters and in a way no
ordinary reflection could be seen be-
cause my senses were quiclcened by
love, and I caught a fleeting glimpse
of his image as it was projected in
the fourth dimension, and for an in-
stant reflected or ‘echoed’ back into
the dimensions I knew.

“And it should be i)ossible to see
him now in that way. Though I can’t
do it. It should be possible; for he
isn’t dead; he has slipped away into
that fourth dimension — ^into that un-
known dimension of Einstein’s that
reforms space, so that it is boundless
but not limitless; where the spiral
courses of the planets round their
suns are the shortest paths between
two points . . .’’

My childish brain was reeling — mid
surely no wonder. I am conscious that
I have helped out the recording of this
last tremendously from later knowl-
edge; but I remember well the thrill
of that night. I seemed to see a great,
dark emptiness, which was space,
managing to conceal its, queer ^ape
and strange dimensions — ^yet in which
I caught glimpses — great balls of fire
swingiug along, and glowing smaller
balls going in circles to go straight —
and somewhere in the mighty mystery
were the deathless dead, near and yet
far from us, vividly vital in some
mysterious way we couldn’t compre-
hend. And the deathless dead still
loved and smiled — ^yes, they must. I
seemed now to remember a tender,
manly, dark face in that west window
long ago — seeing me in my mother’s

arms — ^loving us both with dear, dark
eyes. ...

I stirred.

Mother still knelt on the floor, fac-
ing me. She might have been kneeling
to me.

“Sheila — ^you did see him that time,
when you were a baby. And lately
you saw — I think you saw his shadow.
You seem to see things I’ve foi^otten
how to see, though when he lived

“Anyway, you’ll tell me — ^the least
little thing, won’t you — ^little love? I
feel he’s come near to us again. And
maybe if I saw him, I’d die of joy —
but it wouldn’t be that way with you,
so perhaps that’s why it is permitted
you to see him. You’ll tell me any-
thing you don’t understand — ^big or
little? You won’t forget?’’

I T HAS happened in the later years
that I followed in my father’s foot-
steps, for I, like my mother, married a
brilliant physicist, and, uiilike her, I
have worked with my husband. 1
could help out more fully from later
knowledge my childish remembrance
of my mother’s attempt to explain
her Michael’s theories to me — ^but why
should I? Those theories would malm
dull reading, and they were never
proved. Always they came against an
unknown factor that made Siem un-
provable. But with regard to the
speed of light, I will quote part of a
paragraph and a sentence from a very
fascinating book — The Nature of the
Physical World, by Eddington :

“The speed of 299,796 kilometers per
second which occupies a unique position in
every measure-system is commonly referred
to as the speed of light. But it is mudh
more than that; it is the speed at which the
mass of matter becomes infinite, lengths cmi-
tract to zero, clocks stand stilL . . .

“. . . We almost feel it a challenge to find
something that goes faster.”

The light-echoes, then, were glimpses
caught and reflected in terms of light
rays of the speed we comprehend,
from those unfound vibrations which
do move faster. And the life that goes

LIGHT-BCHOES

677

on after a thing has died is lived in
faster tempo, and more vibrantly than
we can imagine life to live. It may
also be indestructible — on the prin-
ciple that a brightly burning flame
bums on as long as there is anything
to feed it, while a slow and murkily
burning light gutters and goes out.

As I see it now, the life of the
liberated soul is anything but the dim
and shadowy existence of the ancient
conception of ghosts in Hades. And
into that more vivid and vital life he
had gone. . . .

I see it so now. But at that age I
should not have been plunged so sud-
denly into speculations of this order,
and I was to suffer for it for a while.

O N THE day after that serious talk
with my mother she went back to
her work in the office in which she
was employed as a secretary; and I
sneaked into her room and took the
diary out of the private drawer of her
desk and feU to poring over those
I)ortions of it which I knew she did
not want me to see.

I make no excuses, I am simply
narrating facts. I was a child, and I
was curious. And at the same time I
- think I had some idea of standing in
my vani.shed father’s place, of pen-
etrating into the secret, lonely places
of my mother’s soul, of learning to
shield her from her unhappiness.

That diaiy is before me again now,
but I will quote only one section of
it — ^the first that was written after my
father’s sudden death.

It reads like a letter. No, like an
exchange of letters:

“Michael — how could you leave
me ? How can you not have waited for
me? To go from me while I visited
my old home — if I had been with you
in our home, surely I could have some-
how held you.

“But I was coming to you the next
week, and you didn’t wait. Michael,
do you forgive me because you died
alone?

“And do you live — somewhere —

somehow? The ground is cold — ^you
loved sunlight and warmth. Is there
another you — o. living, eternal, inde-
structible you — as all good people be-
lieve — or do they? ‘Lord, I brieve;
help Thou my unbelief.’ Michael, if
there could be one word from you —
one word out of the black empti-
ness. . . .

“And Michael, why haven’t I fol-
lowed you? The ground wouldn’t be
cold, if we were together. 0^ to be
together! In death, as in life. Our
baby — oh, yes — ^but what is even she
to me, beside that which we were to
each other?

“7 don’t belong with the living.
That is not an idle sentence. I know
that my heart is dead. Heart failure
took you from me. But the heart in
my bosom is not my own. That is as
true now as it was before this awful
thing happened.

“When they told me you were gone
— I felt my heart die. There is no
feeling like that. Then I went on, as
I’ve heard a man may run shot
through the heart. But I don’t stop.
And yet my heart is dead. How can
this be? And I feel as though even
my soul must die, without one sign
from you. ...”

There was a space; and then a
different handwriting — a strongly
characterized, eccentric hand; before
reading on I sat still studying it.
Where had I seen that writing? 'Those
t’s and the tails to the g’s and y’s?
I thought — on the backs of some en-
velopes of letters mother kept in a box
— the letters my father had written
her.

“You will finish what I had to
leave undone. To leave — loving as I
love you and little Sheila ! And yet —
don’t think me cruel — ^but I see so
clearly the rapture of the meetmg —
and time does not appear to me as it
appears to you.

“Yes, there is a living Michael who
loves you. Do you know the ‘Else-
where ’ of Einstein ’s space-time ?
Maybe jmu don't, little love; you left

678

WEIRD TALES

that heavy stuff for me ; but in
another dimension where broken
things are joined together, that ‘Else-
where’ is not far from you.

“Do you remember my light-
echoes? They flash rare signals from
that ‘Elsewhere’.

“When you sing Tosti’s Yorrei,
think of me then ; seeing you, bending
down to you — and to he seen by you
again, little love; but not for a while
yet.

“When lights paint images against
darit window-panes, or colors slant
across a still water surface, or when a
crystal or a prism flashes its fire —
think of my light-echoes. Maybe, after
aU, you can catch a glimpse of me
watching over you and loving j'ou.
The things seen in crystals by me-
diums with their quickened vision are
light-echoes ; why shouldn ’t you some-
time see — unless, then, you couldn’t
stay with Sheila.

“You say it is hard to live, when
your heart is dead. You and I are
one, and so I know. But Sheila. How
we have loved her — and how she needs
you now !

“Be patient, Dinorah. Hope.’’

After that there was a long empty
space — ^whole blank pages; and then
one little sentence: “Michael — ^won’t
you write again?’’

Then more blank pages; and after
a while, the diary taken up again,
mostly with entries of my baby ways
and doings.

I closed the book softly, and put it
away again in the drawer of mj‘
mother’s desk. And for a long while
I sat there on the floor.

I THINK my mother saw, somehow,
that her diary had been tampered
with, for after all she made no more
confidences to me. And on my side I
had nothing to tell her. I never saw
an unaccounted-for shadow a^in ;
day after day, I saw nothing at all
out of the ordinary.

But I thought more than was good
for me, and one day I overheard her

talking about me again, this time to
the stout Miss Weir, who was a physi-
cal chemist of some distinction and
who had known my father.

“I saw I had made a mistake in
talking to her about — ^about the things
I thii^ over so much. She must be a
child — all child. I wish she had chil-
dren around her. I’ll not try to draw
too near to her again; I’m sure it
isn’t right.’’

Miss Weir stayed with us that eve-
ning to dinner, and that was the last
time I ever saw her; for she was
taken ill with acute appendicitis a
week afterward, and she died under
the knife.

I was terribly distressed and op-
pressed by all this. My childish
thoughts had already been dwelling
too much upon death, and now I had
the feeling that death was all around
— invisible, but reaching after people
Charybdis-like — or w'as it Scylla who
reached, and Charybdis who sucked?
Either simile would have described
my childish horrors well enough, and
either simile might descril^ w'ell
enough to any mind the pitiless war-
fare of death against mortal existence.
At any rate I grew afraid to enter a
dark room alone.

And it was just at that time, with
my mother brooding over me and me
brooding over her and both of us sens-
ing the barrier between us, as though
indeed my mother herself belonged
more to that unseen world of my fear
than to the world in which we lived,
that we had our great surprize.

Miss Weir had died possessed of
quite a little fortune, and she had
been quite alone in the world. The
fortune was left to my mother, and
after her to me.

Mother was delighted, for me. And
I wondered, child fashion and hope-
fully, if this spurt of material good
fortune mi^t be miraculously the be-
ginning of an era of real happiness
for us both. But that very first night
of the good news, when she tucked
me into bed, I knew better.

LIGHT-ECHOES

679

“I’m so glad for you, Sheila. True,
you’ll still be too alone, little only
child. But money makes you safe. I
wonder — ^but there are so many ways
in which a child — a girl, even a grown
woman, may need her mother very
badly.’’

She was so transparent, and hon-
estly without meaning to be; trying
to Mde her unhappiness from me, yet
letting me see into the depths of it as
you can count the pebbles at the bot-
tom of a deep, clear pool.

I knew what that “7 wonder”
meant It meant: “Now, couldn’t I
go to him? And is it such a dreadful
thing to enter that next world without
an invitation?’’

Half the night, a most unchildlike
insomnia claimed me. My mother
loved me, but she would always love
my fatlier more — and he wasn’t alive,
as we were. I wished I had someone
— or some ones — ^near me who were
all-alivc; who, like myself, shrank
from that other world instead of
yearning toward it.

T he days passed slowly. My mother
had stopped her work, and stayed
at home with me. But we weren’t
happy at aU ; we tried too hard to be.

And then came the twenty-sixth of
October. The date was the anniver-
sary of my father’s death.

Again I had slept very badly. I had
spent the day before with the flock of
cousins I adored, and the oldest boy
had told the rest of us ghost stories.
Then Sari, the oldest girl, had seen
my fear and comforted me. Sari was
the image of my mother, if you could
have- imagined my mother’s prema-
turely whitened hair turned back to
coppery brown, and her face lit by
the healthy happiness children love.
It seems to me, much as I hated my-
self for the disloyalty, that Sari was
more like my mother as she ought to
be, somehow, than my mother herself
— and that if I were always near Sari
I would be always happy. One of

those strange and strong child attrac-
tions drew me to her.

After coming home to our house,
the glow of well-being fell away from
me and the terror of the ghost stories
came back. In my bed I mused upon
them. There was the tale of The
Golden Amx. In it, a corpse had
crept out of the graveyard mold and
come after the arm which had been
stolen from it. And that reminded
me of the writing in my mother’s
little book — ^the writing just before
the blank p^es and her entry :
“Michael, won’t you write again?’’

Hoirror of horrors ! Did my father 's
corpse leave its coffin, perhaps, and
creep out of the ground, and come
hovering near her — and near me?
Had it written in that book, with its
dead hand?

The dreams that followed my wak-
ing thoughts were nightmarish, too.
but at last daylight came.

And all that day — ^how I hate to
remember it! — I stayed as far from
my mother as I eoul^ I had come to
associate her with the dead, and with
death ; and I was in that phase which
sometimes smites children with a sick
nausea, of connecting the idea of
death closely and entirely with the
horrors of the grave.

AU that day I shxmned my mother,
and I think she saw it. And yet in
the lamplit hour — ^how gladly I re-
member that ! — I was drawn back to
her. It was, almost, as though a
kindly influence led me to her; as
though someone who understood the
mainsprings of ray being better than
I ^d had touched me with a tender
hand and somehow allayed all my
morbid misery.

I have seen a ehUd cross and peev-
ish and unreconciled to its mother
after a long and wearing day, newly
enraptured with her and with life on
the return of its father in the evening
— ^because of the sense of completeness
that filled the home with his coming;
and looking back I seem to have be-
haved that night like such a child. I

680

.WEIRD TALES

felt happy again ; as I had felt on the
aftenioon when I had seen the shadow
—and never since. . .

But let me write now carefully
what is to follow: because- in that
newer, fuller science which is just
dawning on the minds of men, such
rare data are of the greatest value.

I had come into my mother’s room.
She sat by the closed west window,
reading. The rose- and pearl-tinted
shade of the lamp beside her blos-
somed like a flower in the dark win-
dow-pane, where she too was reflected
in a mellow glow.

I sat upon the floor. I had a school
text-book which I was pretending to
study — but I was really watching her.
I loved her in that moment, tremen-
dously. I felt as though w'e were
completed — happy, as other mothers
and children. There was a happy
light upon her face. It was a moment
of rare and perfect beauty — and,
child that I was, I had learned a sad
wisdom which whispered to me that
the moment could not last.

And then I heard my mother sing-
ing very softly, though her lips did
not seem to move. The song, which
I thought was the loveliest thing I had
ever heard, seemed to come from a
long w’ay off—^almost like an echo.
She must be humming very softly, and
yet somehow words reached my ears
too — and I wondered how she could
Bay them without moving her lips :

“The winter may come, and the spring may
die . . .

God bless thee, whene’er at his feet thou
dost kneel . . .

... if thou come not soon, love, then I shall
meet thee there.”

My voice sounded crude and shrill,
after that : “Mother! What were you
Binging?”

“Nothing, dear. I wasn’t singing at

all.”

“I thought it was your voice. But
it soimded far away. Someone else,
Bomewhere, maybe.”

“What did it sound like?”

I tried to sing what I remembered.

Mother’s head bent down, so that I
couldn’t see her face. Her voice
trembled ever so slightly, but I
thought not with unhappiness.

“That was Michael’s favorite song,
Sheila. It is Solveig’s Song, from
Peer Gynt. Some day you must see
and hear Peer Gynt. I have never
had the heart to sing it since he died
— but I used to sing it just as you
did now — ^with a certain odd little
mistake in the refrain.” After a
pause she added: “Michael believed —
too — ^that sound vibrations never die
— ^that sometimes they may circle
around in space, and come back like
a homing bird — or like that boome-
rang you made in handicraft class.”

I was greatly touched and awed.
All those horrors were forgotten. My
father had been a wonderful man to
have known such things as that ; won-
derful, even to have thought them.

Mother’s face was still bent down
and turned away, but I could see it
shining dimly in that dark window-
pane. I sat still, gazing at that win-
dow-picture, thinking long, child
thoughts.

The light seemed stronger in that
reflected world. It seemed to focus on
my mother’s face and figure, yet some-
how to be broken up like light from
a prism, but there was no prism in
the room. Anyhow it made a .sort of
rainbow-misty brightness, clear be-
hind a veil.

And — ^now — if cold chills coursed
up my spine, they were not chills of
fright, but of the most exquisite ex-
citement. I was seeing something
very strange indeed — a thing that in-
stantly recalled that passage in my
mother’s diary, describing how in a
pane of window-glass she had seen a
thing that took place, but which she
couldn’t possibly see there.

Only I was seeing something which
— ^wasn’t taking place. Or tvas I?
There was that other diary passage,
about my own baby vision.

There, now, sat my mother in her
willow rocking-chair. I noticed that

LIGHT-ECHOES

681

her hand was pressed against her left
side — was there a pain there?

Anyhow, there was nothing in her
arms — ^her arms were empty, and so
was her lap.

But her reflected image in the toin-
'dow held a baby in its arms, snuggled
a small dark head close against its
breast!

“Mother!” I breathed. “What
baby ever had hair growing in a little
downward point on its forehead? Did
I ever see one?”

Mother answered absently, and a
little jerkily. “It isn’t — common. But
you had a little ‘widow’s peak’. Your
bangs hide it, and you seemed to —
outgrow it, too.”

The picture in the window trem-
bled, as though a light had shifted.
Or did excitement blur my eyes? Now
I was straining them. And I saw — I
saw

May I not live long enough to for-
get the love I glimpsed for an in-
stant in two reflected faces — a
woman’s, and — a man’s!

In the window, my mother’s face
was upturned. And her hair was
dark as my cousin Sari’s. Dark, too,
was the hair of the tall man who bent
to her, and dark his eyes, yet like two
stars

Did I hear or think I heard that
one soft whisper : ‘ ‘ Michael ! ’ ’

I was trjnng to explain something
to myself : “ I ’m seven. But my father
left my mother with me a baby in her
arms. There must be a me still that
is just a baby in her arms. And
they’d want that baby ”

And then I realized that while I
thought about it, the window picture
had changed — dimmed — faded

There was just the lamp blossoming
against blackness; and my mother’s
flgure looking dim, and somehow —
collapsed.

She had collapsed in her willow
chair. She didn’t move or speak to
me. After a while I ran out into the
night, crying for help.

L ooking back from happy years of
personal fulfilment into that long
ago, I know one thing: that I’d
sacrifice everything that has come to
me rather than that one memory. Be-
cause that night when I was seven, I
saw a lover’s meeting — the meeting
of two who — lived. What could life
matter if at the core it were rotten
with a futile emptiness? To me, life
is pregnant with meaning; because I
have seen.

But from the scientific viewpoint,
there is a word to add. Years after-
w'ard I was told that an autopsy had
been performed upon my mother’s
body. It was required by the terms
of Miss Weir’s will, ifi order that I
might inherit, the clause having been
included to prevent my mother from
contemplating suicide once my future
was assured. I inherited; and the
cause of my mother's death was de-
scribed by examining doctors as
unique in medical history.

My mother’s heart had failed. But
it was so atrophied that it appeared
as a muscle which has not been used
for many years.

“I don’t belong to the living ... I
know that my heart is dead. ... If one
of us should die, I know the other
could not live. . . . The heart in my
bosom is not my own.”

Michael had willed his beloved \vife
to guard the first years of their
child’s earth-life, and so she had re-
mained to guard them. Weakness had
overcome him once, and he had died;
but in that other life there was no
more dying, and no more weakness.
He could command her; and she
needed only his love and his com-
mand, and it was done.

Or in medical terms: “Did idll
work here an \tnparalleled marvel —
so that the circulation was maintained
in the veins by some unprecedented
nervous action without the fimction-
ing of the heart, which became a mere
passive part of the circulatory sys-
tem? This case will remain forever
unexplained.”

A Brief Tale of African Witchcraft

THE WHISTLER

By AUGUST W. DERLETH

M ajor sir mark fortes-

CUE stood for a moment on
the veranda staring into the
jungle blackness. Then he turned and
entered the bungalow. The three men
in the living-room looked up at him.
“Well?” sa'id Marsh.

“Everything quiet,” said Fortes-
cue, lighting his pipe. “Too damned
quiet. I don ’t like it. ’ ’ He tossed the
match toward a waste-basket.

“Nothing doing toni^t then?”
asked Marsh again.

“I wish I knew, old man.” The
major slumped into a chair. “There
are only four of us, and ten of the
men that we can depend upon if it
comes to a battle — ^but it won’t.”

Marsh nodded. The other two men
sat silently by.

‘ ‘ I say, ’ ’ said young Kent suddenly,
“we can pick off the whole mob with
our machine-gun. ’ ’

Major Fortescue grunted. “If
they come close enough. You’ve got
a lot to learn about warfare in liis
country, Kent.”

Kent drew himself up proudly.
“You’ll pardon me, major, but I
haven’t got a trepanned sl^ll for
nothing, you know.”

“You’ll never have occasion to get
a trepanned skull here in the Veldt.”

“God!” said the fourth man, “I
wish they’d come at us.”

“We all do, Grayson.”

“It would be better than this
damned waiting — ^waiting. Nothing to
do but play bridge, for a week now.
And the news from home isn’t due for
a month yet — almost two.”

682

“If,” said Major Fortescue curtly,
“we get it then!”

“Those damned natives! Not one
of ’em’s to be trusted.”

Kent turned suddenly. “What
about this man Abou?”

The major took his pipe from his
mouth and looked at him. “So you’ve
seen old Abou, eh? If you value your
life, Kent, you’ll not see him again.”

“That old fellow? Why, he’s al-
most childish.”

“Far from it,” snapped the major.

“Isn’t he a sort of chief?” asked
Kent.

“No,” said the major, “he isn’t a
chief. He’s a witch doctor.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Kent, and stared.
“I’ve heard about them.”

“I daresay you have,” said the
major. “I don’t mind telling you,”
he continued, “that the fellow Gray-
son replaced was picked up by Abou.
I don’t care to talk about what hap-
pened to him.”

Marsh nodded. “You’ll listen,” he
said in a low voice, “or you’ll pay for
it.”

“But he seems so damned harm-
less.”

“That’s just it,” said the major
dryly. “He does seem harmless.”

For a while the men sat silent. Then
Kent spoke again.

“I’m told,” he said, “that these
witch doctors have a great deal of in-
fluence over the natives.”

“Yes,” nodded the major.

“Why couldn’t we buy Abou off?”

The major looked at him coldly.

THE WHISTLER

683

“Was there anything that led you to
believe I was joking about Abou?”
Kent shook his head.

“Then shut up. And get any idea
of saving this place by buying off the
natives out of your head.”

Silence fell over the group. After
a while the major looked at his wrist.

“I’m going to bed,”. he said. “It’s
Grayson's watch until midnight; then
I'll be out.”.

A t midxight the major stood on
the veranda with Grayson.
“They’re fighting us mth weapons
we can’t combat,” Major Fortescim
was saying. “You know what I mean.
I don’t believe in witchcraft, but I’ve
seen some fminy things here. I’m
not so sure of myself after that.”

“I know,” said Grayson shortly.
“Tliese out-of-the-way places have a
waj’ about them. In India once, dur-
ing the Sepoy RebcUion, I was sta-
tioned far to the north. We got a
native den-ish and threw Mm into the
guard-house. In an hour he was dead
— ^no one knew how. But there was not
a question about the matter ; our doc-
tor pronotuiced him dead as a six
weefe’ corpse. We di’agged him out,
intending to bury him. We laid him
on the groiuid, turned our bacits for
a moment, and he was gone. We sup-
posed his natives had made off Avith
the body. Next day he was walking
around again.”

Major Foitescue nodded slowly.
“By the way,” he asked suddenly,
“who are Kent’s neare.st relatives?”

“A brother, I think; an M. P., if
I’m not mistaken.” Grayson glanced
at him cuxnously.

“That all? No wife — mother?”
“No. Both dead. His wife died
just before he came here.. That’s why
he came.”

“I see. I wonder how we can best
notify the brother.”

“'Vi’^hy, wliat do you mean?” Gray-
son stared at him.

The major’s eyes were steely behind
his pince-nez. “Because,” he said

evenly, “within twenty-four hours
after anyone meets Abou that man
vanishes. He will in all probability
never again be seen alive. I daresay
you’ve heard of African animal mag-
netism — Lamia sorcery?”

Grayson did not answer. The major
shrugged his shoulders.

“I do not dare to doxxbt that Kent
has been under this influence ever
since his meeting with Abou. He must
return to Aboxx — aixd God kixows what
that hellish tribe will do to him!”

Gi'aysoxx made a curious choking
souxid in his throat.

“I take it that you’ve been awake
every moment of the watch, Gray-
son?”

Grayson xxodded.

“And that you haven’t seen any-
thing — ixxxixsual?”

Graysoxx shook his head. The major
took a revolver from about his waist.

“Well,” he said, “you’d better go
axxd wake iMax’sh. Kent’s xxot in the
lxou.se — bed hasn’t been slept in.
We’ll have to go out there and look
for him.”

G hayson vanished in the blackness
of the doorway, axxd shortly after
the three men wex’e pushixxg their xvay
silexitly thx'ough the jungle beyond the
bixngalow.

“Stop,” whispei’ed the major sud-
dexxly. “We’ve got to stay within
sight of the bungalow. Did you get
the men up?” He turned to Marsh.
“Yes. They’re on guard, major.”
“We caxx’t stand here all night,
major*,” Gx*ayson protested.

“I know it,” snapped Fox*tescue;
then, “Listexx! I’m going to call.
Kent!” he shouted, and again,
“Kent!”

The three men stood in silence.
Preseixtly, as if fx'om a distance, came
axx echo.

“Thei’e they are,” said Uxe major
gx'imly. “Thei*e is never an echo
hex’e. Listen!”

In the darkness rang another cry.
“Help, major! Help, major?”

684

WBroD TALES

“My God?" said Gray^a under
his breath.

“Quiet," warned the major.

Again the cry came, closer this
time. Then for a long time there was
silence. All of the men were shift-
ing around when it came. At first a
low, vague sound, as of someone whis-
tling far away. Then it changed
abruptly, and sounded immediately
before them.

Grayson gripped the major’s arm.
“That’s Kent. It’s Drdla’s Souvenir
he’s whistling. Kent always whistles
that!"

The major nodded. “I recognized
it at once," he said.

The whistling came again, louder
this time.

“Get your revolvers ready. When
I give the word, fire. ’ ’

“But Kent ’’ said Grayson.

“You follow my orders," snapped
the major.

Again came the whistling — now be-
hind them, now before. Then, far
away, the cry, “Help, major!" fol-
lowed by a long-drawn-out “Ah!"
Then tlie whistle again, just before
them.

“Fire!" said the major harshly.

Three shots rang out as one. There
was a momentary silence. Then some-
thing came crashing through the trees
toward them. A round something
bounded out of the brush and against
the major’s foot. Portescue turned
his flash on it, but turned it off at
once. He reached down, picked it up,
and put it under his jacket.

“Lights!" ordered the major.

Three lights flashed into the jun-
gle. Just ahead of them lay an old
native, clothed in a single bizarre
strip of cloth about the loins. Around
his neck hung many beads, some of
bone. His face was streaked with
paint.

“Abou!" said the major in a stifled
voice. “Examine him."

The two men stepped forward.

“Got it in the abdomen," said
Marsh. ‘ ‘ He won ’t last. ’ ’

“No," said the major, stepping for-
ward. “He won’t." Very deliberate-
ly he placed the barrel of his revolver
against the negro’s temple and pulled
the trigger. The lights went out.

“We may expect relief of some
kind," said the major on the way to
the bungalow. “The natives will
most likely be gone by morning, or
they may attack at once, now that
Abou is dead. Either way it is bet-
ter."

I N THE house Grayson turned to the
major. “What was it you picked
up, major?”

Without a word the major placed
the object upon the table. It was a
human skull, totally devoid of all
flesh. Slightly toward the back of the
head was a triangular silver plate.
Grayson whirled; the major’s f^
was grim, his eyes were mere pin-
points.

“My God!" said Grayson in a chok-
ing voice. “ Who was it — out theroV*

1 HAVE very little hope that you
will understand, still less be-
lieve this incredible adventure
that poor Jerry and I went through
only a year ago. But if I write it
all down perhaps the memory that
haunts me, sleeping or waking, will
fade from my tortured mind. They
think here that I am mad ! And I am
afraid that I really shall go mad
soon, if no one will believe this true
and frightful story.

Jerry Nicholls and I were at Daw-
liSh University together, as close pals
as two young enthusiasts could be,
and shared everything from our
views on evolution to a teapot w’ith
a broken spout.

It was in our third year that
Jerry’s gi’andfather died; and, being

the last of the Nicholls and the sole
heir to the old man’s property, of
course Jerry was bound to appear at
the funeral.

I heard nothing from him until two
weeks later, when this letter arrived
on the last day of term :

For the Lord’s sake, Frank, come down to
this beastly hole! I can’t start with you
immediately for Switzerland, according to
plan, because of all the business connected
with this rotten old estate. Come at once.
A few more nights alone in this howling
wilderness will turn me gray.

Jebbt.

That was enongh for me. I stuffed
a wet sponge and a few more pairs
of socks into an already bursting
suitcase, tied an extra bit of string

685

686

WEIRD TALES

round it, and caught the next train
going north.

Jerry was waiting at 'Doone sta-
tion, and his face lit up with a grin
of delight as he gripped my hand.
We walked home aci'oss the marsh-
land, and poor Jerry fairly babbled
all the way. He had been so lonely
that he couldn’t talk fast enough.

Doone House w'as the center and
soul of a gray, solitary world. Built
of the dark ironstone peculiar to
that drearj' district, it stood at one
entrance to a long, narrow ravine
known .as Blackstone Cut, w’hose
frowning rocky walls opened out at
the farther end on a limitless waste
of moor and bog.

The firat time I saw it, Blackstone
Cut looked to me like a road to hell.
It looked like a road to hell, and .so
it was . . . for Jerry and I trod that
road, and Jerry still . . .

I can’t tell this story as I should.
The horror of it is too vivid, the hell
of which I speak too near for me to
write calmly and clearly. But try,
try to believe me!

2

“XT’ou’ve noticed it too!” Jerry

* said a few days later. “Nasty
atmosphere in this house, isn’t
there?” He hesitated, then went on
abniptly. “I’m not proud of my pro-
genitoi's, and Grandfather — well,
dead or not, he was as near a devil
as any human being could be, and
still be human.”

I laughed with some embari’ass-
ment and murmured something about
the old man being gone now.

Jerrj' got up from the luncheon
table and stared moodily, hands in
his pockets, at the driving rain
against the window-panes. “Grand-
father may be gone, but he’s not
gone far!”

“What on earth ” I began.

“No, not on earth — in hell !” Jerry
replied. “He’s waiting there for his
dutiful grandson to join him. It
would spoil his pleasure completely

to know that I had escaped him in
the end.”

I stai’ed dumfounded at this out-
burst from Jerry. The suppressed
bitterness of years w'^as in his voice,
and his face was .a mask of hate. He
came back to the table and sat heav-
ily down in his chair again, his dark
eyes smoldering.

“You don’t know — you can’t un-
derstand what it has been all these
years. On the one hand, Dawlish;
on the other hand, Grandfather ! The
long fight to hold out against him!
The knowledge deep down within me
that some day, sooner or later, he
would win.”

“Win!” I echoed feebly.

“Win, yes, win out against the col-
lege and all that it stood for to me.
He was forced to send me to Daw-
lish; my father’s will provided for
that, but he meant to win in the
end.”

“Your grandfather wanted you to
be — to be — er ”

“To be the sort of beast he him-
self was,” finished Jerry. “That’s
exactly what he wanted. I was des-
tined to carry on his experiments,
you see.”

I didn’t see in the least, and wait-
ed dumbly for Jerry to explain. How-
ever, he jumped up suddenly, his
face lit with his old familiar grin.

“Come on, Frank! I’ve got the
blues today, and you’ll be pushing
off on the next train if I’m not care-
ful! I’ve got something to show you
— come on!”

He hooked his arm in mine affec-
tionately and steered me up dismal
stairways and along endless corri-
dors, whose closed doors made me
shiver; I felt that each door opened
as we passed and that leering faces
peeped after us.

Jerry caught me looking back and
tightened his grip on my arm.

“Horrid sensation, isn’t it? That’s
an old trick of my grandfather’s. He
used to punish me when I was a
youngster by making me walk up

THE FOOTPRINT

687

and down these corridors at dusk.
There’s no one there, really! I’m
used to it; the performance is for
your benefit now.”

“My benefit!” I gasped. “Look
here, Jerry, what’s come over you?
"What kind of tricks do you mean?”

“What kind of tricks? Oh, hypno-
tism partly, and partly — something
else!” said Jerry. “I tell you he was
a devil — a devil ! And he ’s still here
trying to get me.”

“He’s dead, Jerry!” I protested,
“If you get to imagining things like
this you’ll be in a strait jacket before
you know it! He’s dead and gone
now.”

“He’s not gone far,” repeated
Jerry obstinately.

“You’re talking absolute rot,” I
answered hotly. “The sooner you
get out of this damned hole the bet-
ter! What do you suppose the fel-
lows would say if they knew you be-
lieved such bunkum?”

“It may be rot,” he said slowly.
“I try to persuade myself that I
think so too.”

“Of course it is,” I assured him
heai'tily. “Wait till you’re climbing
the Alps next month! You’ll laugh
at all these nightmares.”

His face cleared still more. “Two
weeks more and we shall be in
Switzerland! I shall have escaped
once and for all from this old dun-
geon, and-^him. ” His voice sank in-
voluntaifily, and he glanced round as
if he expected to see a visible chal-
lenge to his words.

“Free!” he repeated in a defiant
voice, and only the moan of the wind
and the dripping rain answered him.

3

“''T^his is what I wanted to show
A you.” Jerry’s voice was eager
as he opened a door at the top of the
house and led the way into a huge,
dim room under the X'oof, where
great rafters stretched overhead,
and a shining wood floor mirrored
them in its polished surface.

The vails, from ceiling to floor,
were lined with books.

“My word, Jerry!” I said, in an
awed voice. “What a stunning li-
brarj’^!”

“Thought you’d appreciate it,” he
said, enjoying my surprize. “The
Xicholls’ were famous for their love
of learning, among other less pleas-
ing vices. This little lot has taken
some hundreds of years to collect.”

For some time I browsed among
the shelves, bewildered at the im-
mense choice they offered. Jerry left
me to my own devices, and it was
some horn’s later when I looked up
to see him in a distant corner of the
vast attic room.

“What’s your latest fairy-t^e?”
I called out as I went over to him.

Poor old Jerry ! I can see him now,
as he looked up at me, his eyes blaz-
ing with excitement and interest. He
was dangerously enthusiastic, and
liable to get right off his track when
anything gi'ipped him really hard.

“I’ve never noticed this book be-
fore!” and his voice was queer and
husky. “It’s not even catalogued;
but here it is cheek by jowl with
good old Fabre!” He laughed on a
high, excited note. “Bit of a con-
trast — what?”

I took the book from him. If I had
known — oh, if I had only guessed
what that harmless-looking book was
going to mean to Jerry and me, I’d
have cut off my hand before touch-
ing it. Instinct indeed! Why, our
instincts simply lay down and went
to sleep, whilo Jerry and I gamboled
light-heartedly across the threshold
to hell.

The book was written by a certain
Count von Gheist, and at fii’st it ap-
peared to be a sort of skit on vari-
ous di’eamers and mystics of past
centuries.

That was the trap — the cynical
baffling style in which von Gheist ap-
proached his subject. Jerry and I
sat side by side in one of the deep
window-seats and chuckled delight-

68S

WEIRD TALES

ediy over the early chapters — the
gay malicious way in which the au-
thor exposed the igniorance of fa-
mous charlatans of old.

Subtly and imperceptibly, by cun-
ning, devious routes, von Gheist
merged his style from the cynical to
one of deadly earnestness, which
finally gripped me as strongly as it
had Jerry.

The book is burned to ashes now;
I did that after Jerry — after
Jerry No, that cornea later!

What a blind, ignorant fool I was !
For him, with his grim childhood in
that cursed house, there was a rea-
son and excuse for weakness. For
me there was no such excuse. I might
have warned and guarded him from
that seeking devil that reached up
put of hell.

Jerry! Jerry! Where are you now?

4

I T WAS Jerry who first put our
thoughts into words, as we sat one
evening before the red glow of a log
fire, after a prolonged discussion of
von Gheist 's theories.

“It’s a full moon on Friday, you
know!"

I nodded ; the same idea had been
in my mind all day.

“It would be rather a joke,
wouldn’t itt’’ he went on, trying
hard to camouflage his real earnest-
ness.

Again I nodded ; the same consum-
ing desire burnt in my breast as in
his. To try it out! To prove von
Gheist ’s words — ^to test that final
superb claim of his!

In cold blood, reading this, you
will say we were fools, and worse
than fools. But you have never lived
at Doone House, never heard the
voices that whisper and call when
night falls on Blackstone Cut, never
seen the faces in the dim corridors
that vanish at a look or cry.

Above all, you have never imag-
ined a creature as vile as Jerry's
grandfather, or been caught in the

mesh of his deviltries. And here I
warn you, as you value your im-
mortal soul, never to enter Doone
House, for you can not hope to es-
cape him there.

He is dead and gone — but he is not
gone far! Jerry was right, horribly
right, when he said that.

“After all, there is no reason why
such experiments should be out of
reach,” Jerry continued. “We can
project sight and sound to vast dis-
tances, and these are purely human
and physical attributes. Why not the
intelligence which directs our bodies?
If we could direct our minds as von
Gheist did his, we could give a tre-
mendous jolt to science!”

“It appears to be chiefly a matter
of concentration.”

“Yes,” replied Jerry. “That more
or less spectacular ceremony he men-
tions is merely a means von Gheist
suggests to fix the will-power.”

“I don’t quite see ” I began.

“Of course not,” interrupted
Jerry. “That’s why we ought to ex-
periment! Von Gheist says plainly
that his experiences may only serve
to baffle other experimenters. Re-
action varies according to the intelli-
gence and will. Fear, he says, is the
one great deterrent.”

My mind went off suddenly at a
tangent. “What kind of experiments
did your grandfather make?” I
asked.

Jerry frowned, and kicked a log
into flame. “Why, he believed in aU
the people that von Gheist ridicules
— ^Paracelsus, Lully, Count Raymond,
Dr. Dee and all the rest. His experi-
ments were all along their lines, more
or less. I think ”

“Well, go on! What do you
think?”

“I think he really did achieve un-
holy power by some means or other.
But since reading this book I don’t
feel quite the same about Grand-
father as I did. He seems farther
away now ; it’s like a weight slipping
from my neck.”

THE FOOTPRINT

689

As he spoke, my glance caught a
very strange effect of light and
shadow cast hy the dancing flames
of the log Are — a tall, wavering out-
line beside Jerry’s chair, which
swayed in a horrible semblance of
mirth, while the rain and wind hissed
savagely in the old chimney.

The dog saw something there too;
for he got to his feet, growling, his
teeth bared, as he stared at that mov-
ing shadow.

“Quiet!” said Jerry, lightly cuff-
ing the animal’s head. “There aren’t
any rats here, old fellow!” Then
catching sight of my face, “Why,
what’s wrong, Frank? You’re abso-
lutely green!”

I blinked my eyes, feeling remark-
ably foolish as a great log broke and
roared in an upward stream of flame
and sparks, and the shadow I had
seen vanished in the clear red light
which bathed the heai’th. Inwardly
I cursed myself for an imaginative
fool, and told Jerry I had a rather
bad twinge of neuralgia.

“No wonder, in this damp old
tomb of a house,” he said. “Poor old
chap, this is no picnic for you!”

“Oh, don’t rot!” I answered
gruffly, my nerves still jumping from
the effect of that momentaiy terror
I had experienced.

W E SPENT the next few days like
two kids in expectation of
Christmas. Looking back now, I see
so clearly the warnings given me
that we were on a dangerous road,
but at the time I purposely ignored
them; for I was dull and bored at
Doone House, and our coming ex-
periment prondsed relief from the
monotony of the long wet days and
quiet nights.

Friday night came at last. A high
wind drove off the rain-clouds, and
a full moon lit Blackstone Cut from
end to end, as we climbed up the
stairs to the library, shut out the ter-
viei’, locked all the doors, and pre-

pared to follow the directions given
by von Cheist.

Jerry won the toss, and was there-
fore first to make the experiment.

I sat in a window-bay to watch. In
the stillness of the great library
eveiy so\ind was exaggerated, and
the howl of the wind and the whin-
ing of the dog outside the locked
door got on my nerves at first. Then
Jerry’s preparations absorbed all my
attention.

I laughed inwardly at his child-
like absorption in drawing the cir-
cles and figures on the wood floor,
referring with frowning intentness to
von Gheist’s diagrams, but neverthe-
less I was impressed when all was
ready and Jerry stood, erect and tri-
umphant, in the midst of his braziers
and touched the alderwood in each
to flame with the burning torch in
his hand.

All this mummery, I reflected, was
childish in itself, but, taken as a
means to absorb and concentrate the
faculties, it certainly worked well.

Jerry was as completely with-
drawn from his physical surround-
ings as a Buddhist who has attained
Nirvana. I heard his low muttering
voice repeat the words :

Phlagus! Taraml Zoth!

Founts of all knowledge, will, and potver!

By the Wandering Bull, and the. Four
Horns of the Altar,

Pierce the veil of my darkness. . . .

The wind dropped outside, and a
queer heat began to invade the room.
My skin felt dry as parchment; and
when I saw Jerry raise a great gob-
let to his lips and drink deep, my
own thirst tortured me.

Then I forgot everything as fear
gripped me, for the things that were
happening in that brazier-lit circle
were not things of which von Gheist
had written in his book !

Hell and heaven %vere to him
merely fabiucations of primitive
man! Ghosts and devils he derided
as the sick fancies of the unintelli-
gent !

690

WEIRD TALES

What, then, was it that Jerry saw
as he stood with face convulsed with
terror, and blazing eyes fixed on
something within the circle — some-
thing from which he retreated step
by step to the very edge of the fiery
barrier he had made, and halted
there like a man with his back to a
wall?

“No! no! no!" I heard his low,
agonized voice. “Not that, Grand-
father! — not that!"

Panic seized me as I watched the
despairing fear and loathing on
Jerry’s face. What in the name of
all that was evil did he see? Al-
though I did not loiow what I feared,
insensate terror shook the heart out
of me and left me as helple.ss to move
or speak as if I were paralyzed.

I tried to call out ; my brain
shrieked the words: “Jerry! Jerry!
Hold on! hold on, I’m coming,
Jerry!" But my cold, shaking lips
refused to utter a syllable.

Dumb and powerless, I watched as
he tried to beat off his enemy and
escape from the maze of circles and
pentacles he had drawn abput him-
self, the net his own hands had
made !

Within the glow of his fiery bar-
rier, I saw his desperate eyes — ^his
face wet with hideous effort, as he
ran doubling here and there across
his narrow prison, gasping, fighting,
struggling blindly with the deadly
Thing which pursued.

His eyes met mine, and from his
twisted mouth came a hoarse, des-
perate appeal: “Break it! Break the
circle!"

Something burst in my brain. I
lurched forward and fell right across
the outer circle of his prison, knock-
ing oyer two braziers and smearing
the diagrams in blind, clumsy haste.

The fires leaped up into sudden
flame with a sound like crackling
laughter, then died out completely,
and Jerry and I found ourselves in a
dark, silent room, our hands holding
one another fast.

6

N ext morning, after pacing rest-
lessly up and down the longf
avenue to Doone House, Jerry came
to sit beside me on a low, crumbling
wail.

“You don’t understand, even now,
Prank," he said. “I can’t escape be-
cause I have brought this on myself.
It was all a trap — and I chose to en-
ter the trap of my own free will;
that’s what puts me within his
grasp! I colled him back to me. I
opened the gate between the dead
and the living with my own hands,
last night."

I rubbed my red hair fretfully and
scowled.

“I don’t believe it! You’re letting
the past hypnotize you. You’ll soon
forget all this when you get away
from this cursed place.”

“Can you forget?" he asked in a
low, strange voice, hb dark eyes
burning into mine.

I hesitated for a moment and he
took me up with passionate earnest-
ness.

“You don’t — ^you can’t forget!
You never will forget! It’s no use,
Prank, old chap, I’m done!”

“Rot — absolute rot, you priceless
fool! I don’t pretend to understand
our experience last night, but I’m
sure we worked ourselves up un-
necessarily. There are some experi-
ments one is wiser not to make, and
apparently ours was one of them."

“Experiment!" echoed Jerry,
“You realize, don’t you, who von
Gheist was — and why he wrote that
book?”

“He’s a most convincing rascal, at
all events," I said. “And fooled us
pretty thoroughly."

“My grandfather wrote that book!
He left it as a last weapon for me to
turn on myself!"

“Von Gheist — your grandfather!’*
“Of course," Jerry replied, star-
ing out over the desolate wind-swept

THE FOOTPRINT

691

garden. ‘ ‘ That book was a trick after
his own heart."

"I don’t know what you mean," I
said, feeling surly and baffled by my
own new thoughts and fears. “But
you’ll go right off the deep end if
you’re not jolly careful. Come away
with me today and let that damned
old lawyer whistle for you."

“I can’t." His voice was low and
sullen.

“Meaning ?”

“I’m not allowed," he continued.
“I’m not sure yet — if there’s a way
out for me — I’m trying to discover."

“Well, for heaven’s sake let’s do
something, not mope about the place
like a couple of wet owls!"

“You won’t understand, I know,"
he answered reluctantly. “But I
think — I feel pretty certain that I
can’t pass the gates.”

I stared at him, then broke out im-
patiently.

“What’s to prevent you walking
out of your own gates? For the
Lord’s sake, Jerry, are you quite off
your head? I’m not going to stay if
you don’t buck up. There is a limit,
you know.”

He looked as though I had struck
him.

“Not stay with me!" He came
close and stared wildly into my face.
“I’m going mad, d’you hear? Mad
with fear! You can’t go! I won’t be
left alone!" Tears softened the wild
glare of his eyes, and I stood like the
embarrassed fool that I was, pretend-
ing not to notice his emotion.

“Oh, all right!" I managed to
blurt out at last. “Don’t lose your
wool about it. I’ll stay; but its
pretty thick if you’re going to moon
round like this all the time."

“I know — oh, I know what a putrid
time you’re having! I’ll make it up
to you later — in Switzerland. If I can
get there!" he added in an under-
tone.

Then he took my arm with a
strange air of resolution, saying,
“After all, now or later, it will be

all the same in the end. We’ll go over
to Hightown."

How little I guessed of the horror
he was facing or of the ghastly effort
it needed for him to lenve that house
and garden! I saw that he went
white to the lips as we passed
through the gates at the end of the
long avenue, but I pretended not to
notice his frequent glances over his
shoulder.

He walked closer and closer to me,
making no response to anything I
said, edging me all the time against
the wall on my other side. At last I
offei’ed to change places with him.

“You try the wall!” I laughed.
“It’s a good hard one.”

Then I glanced at the muddy road
and stood staring in bewilderment.
Jerry saw it at the same moment,
and with a choking cry he lurched
up against the wall.

For long we stared in fascinated
horror at the colossal footprint there
before us. I was shaken and puzzled,
but Jerry’s fear was something be-
yond all words.

“He’s winning . . . winning! You
see it now !" His voice rose to a wild
note of hysteria. “If I don’t go back
he’ll torment me for houi’s. It’s no
use . . . no use."

He began slowly to drag himself
back along the road, while I pro-
tested and argued hotly, until I
turned to see that the impress of that
infernal foot followed us back to the
very gateway of Doone House.

My heart stood still as we walked
up the gloomy avenue to see those
awful footprints following — follow-
ing to the hateful threshold of the
house itself. And over the threshold
they followed on. I saw how the dust
of the neglected corridors rose and
swirled in little eddies behind poor
Jerry, as that vast Evil swept on in
his wake.

He made for the library — ^that dim
gorgeous antechamber to hell — and
Qiere, strangely enough, whatever it
was that haunted Jerry withdrew.

692

.WEIRD TALES

For a long time the horror slid from
his soul, leaving him cheerful and
sanguine once more. Possibly certain
hours were more favorable for the
thing’s manifestation than others;
but Jerry put aside his fears, and
even made light of the visible signs
of his grandfather’s power we had
both witnessed so recently.

“It’s another of his tricks! I hope
he’s exhausted himself this time.
There is a limit to what he can do.
I'll come away with you tomorrow,
and not give him another chance to
get mel’’

W E WENT late to bed, and I was
just dropping off to sleep when
I heard Jerry’s cry. Without stop-
ping even for shoes, I dashed off
along the corridor to his room. As I
reached his door, he burst out Avith
mad terror on his face, and ran past
me like the wind.

I felt a suffocating sense of heat,
and staggered back as from an open
furnace door. Then, with no courage
at all, but simply a blind in.stinet to
follow, I went after Jerry.

As I ran, I saw that the carpet
under my feet was scorched and
blackened, and that the marks were
identical in shape and size with those
we had seen in the muddy road
earlier that day.

On raced Jerry, a mad flying fig-
ure ahead! Dowh the big central
staircase he went, across the tiled
hall, and I heard the groan of bolts
and bars as he tore open the great
double-doors and fled out into the
night.

And as I followed, I felt the burn-
ing heat under my bare feet — smelled
the odor of chari’cd Avood as I stum-
bled over the threshold, and A^aguely
wondered if the house were on fire.

Outside, in the dark night, I saw
Jerry running as though pursued by
all the fiends of hell. And so he was
. . . so he was! I knoAV that noAv;
but, then, I did not understand, and
I ran after him, panting and cursing

because he would not stop, or listen
to my assurance that he Avas running
from his own fears and nothing else !

On and on through the darkness
raced Jerry. On and on I stumbled
behind him — farther and farther be-
hind, as the road grew rougher and
steeper.

He headed for Blaekstone Cut, and
rushed on between its somber walls,
keeping up an incredible speed until
he approached the head of the ra-
vine, Avhere its rocky walls rose to
great froAvning crags — two grim
guardians at the portals of hell.

To my amazement, Jerry began to
climb the rocky face of one of the
crags. His speed and sureness of
foot were nothing short of miracu-
lous, and only the madness of over-
mastering fear could have lent him
wings to take that terrible way.

He looked like some crazy little
insect craAvling over the bare face of
the rock, blindly seeking safety
where none was to be found, clinging
— ^leaping — running — scrambling on
hands and knees, until he stood at
last on the topmost height, a tiny
frenzied figure against the sky.

But Avhatever pursued him, had
pursued him even to his giddy eyrie ;
for I was near enough to see his wild
gestures— his frantic repulsion of
something at his side.

Oh, Jerry, if I had only overtaken
you! — if I had not left you to fight
that last aAvful fight up there alone!
— alone with him ! — it would be
easier for me to think of you now.

But you were alone — most awfully
alone — and so you lo.st, -Jerry! Had
I been there, perhaps you Avould have
won — ^perhaps you would have Avon!
That thought is driving mo mad — per-
haps you Avould hav'c Avon !

A high, thin scream of agony
floated down to me from the heights.
I saAv Jerry leap out into the dark-
ness and fall, turning and twi.sting
with outflung limbs to the floor of
the ravine.

THE FOOTPRINT

693

H IS bodj’^ was? nevor found. The
whole of Doone Aullage turned
out to hunt for him, but he was
never found, and they said he had
fallen into a bog and been swallowed
up in the black ooze.

But I know better, for I found
and followed the trail of those colos-
sal footprints, and they led to a
grassy hollow under the crag from
which Jerry had flung himself down.
The gi’een of the hollow was charred
and burned to the black eai’th itself,
and there was no ti*ace of Jerry — no
trace of flesh or bone !

But there was something else
^ which I recognized with terror. On
* the flat surface of a piece of granite,

lying in the hollow, was a peculiar
and significant mark roughly cut in
the stone. It was the mark of von
Gheist — the key to von Gheist’s great
experiment with which poor Jerry
had unlocked the door between the
dead and the living.

The villagers of Doone shook their
heads over me pityingly when I
showed them the mark. They saw
nothing in it, save the furrows
caused by the fret, of time and
weather !

But I recognized it, and I remem-
bered. I am going mad with remem-
bering . . . and no one will believe
me!

Jerry’s grandfather had won!

RECAPTURE

\By H. P. LOVECRAFT

The way led down a dark, half -wooded heath
Where moss-gray boulders humped above the mold.

And curious drops, disquieting and cold.

Sprayed up from unseen stream.^ in gulfs beneath.

There was no wind, or any trace of sound
In puzzling shmb, or alien-featured tree,

Nor any view before — till suddenly.

Straight in my path, I saw a monstrous mound.

Half to the sky those .steep sides loomed upspread,
Rank-grassed, and cluttered by a crumbling flight
Of lava stairs that scaled the feai’-topped height
In steps too vast for any human tread.

I shrieked — and kmw what primal star and year

Had sucked me back from man’s di’c-am-transient sphere!

^ Story of a Revivified Corpse

SEVEN DROPS
OF BLOOD

0

By H. F. JAMISON

T he scourge of Death — ^the
parting of loved ones forever
— has been the one great sor-
row of the ages. Saint and sinner
alike have shared its devastating
power. Men of science have sought to
conquer the destroyer but have hope-
lessly failed. Superstition, in an ar-
ray of mystic rites and ceremonies
which included the slajdng of goats
and bullocks, the beating of tom-toms
in weird devil-dances, the laying on
of hands and the sprinkling of holy-
water, has promised immunity from
death. Human puppets have crossed
continents and seas, braving every
known peril of the wilderness and
jungle in seareh of the fabled Foun-
tain of Youth in which they mig^t
bathe and be young again ; but at last
that insatiable monster — the Eider of
the Pale Horse — ^has stretched forth
his talons of bone and has dragged
them down — down — into his endless
embrace !

Life is but a vapor : a few days here
and a man is gone, and in multitudi-
nous eases, even his memory, after a
moment of time compared to eternity,
is obliterated entirely.

Whence came Man? Why was he
created? What is his purple? Why
such a short and feeble existence? b
life worth the misery entailed upon
him? Why a “Somewhere beyond
this vale of tears?" Why not a per-
petual existence here? "V^y look for-
ward after his passing to a chimerical
and doubtful resurrection of the
dead?

694

These and many similar thoughts
surged through the brain of Stanton
J. Eldon, millionaire, dreamer, and
master of weird experiments, as he sat
alone in his private laboratory.

Somewhere in this world — ^he be-
lieved it with all his being — there
was a force mighty enough to scoff at
death and the grave if one could only
find it. Was that force in chemistry?
Was it electro-magnetic? What?
Where?

Why should man let the motor of
the body — ^the human heart — stop at
all? And, in the event that it did
stop, why not start it again?

He wondered if the experiment of
the great scientists of which he had
just been reading — ^where vitality had
been momentarily re-establish^ in
the human body after death had been
in undisputed possession of it for
twenty-nine hours — ^was really a suc-
cess. Was it a forecast of greater
things to come? Or was it merely a
case of the use of a hi^-pressure
drug so potent that even lifeless clay
could not withstand the terrific on-
slaught; for example, an effect simi-
lar to that product upon the muscles-
of a frog when salt is placed upon
them? He did not know.

From another standpoint he rea-
soned: If the believers in what he
termed superstition — ^the so-called
Bible myths — ^were correct, even they
had not taken advantage of their al-
leged unlimited possibilities; for had
not Jesus broken the bonds of death
and declared: “He that believeth in

SEVEN DROPS OF BLOOD

695

me shall never die”; and, "Death
shall have no more dominion over
you”?

What was the secret of the Naza-
rene’s power? The fools! After see-
ing his actual demonstration — a re-
turn from the tomb — ^they mocked
him, and didn’t even attempt to learn
the truth; so, for that reason, he let
them ‘ ‘ go their way ’

But after a careful reading and re-
reading of their traditions, Eldon saw
beneath the surface a startlmg ray of
light — thi'ough lightning, and ser-
pent’s venom, and blood!

"I saw Satan, as lightning, fall
from Heaven,” the sacred writer de-
clares. Satan is still here, Eldon rea-
soned ; invisible, all-powerful — still
here. All adherents to the sacred
scriptures freely admit this regard-
less of their respective creeds. They
acknowledge that His Satanic Maj-
esty is the one gi’eat foe of humanit 3 %
for he is supposed to control death —
infernal nemesis of mankind.

Again: Satan is the original Ser-
pent of Eden’s Garden, and the Crea-
tor had said that the seed of the wo-
man should bruise the Serpent’s head :
therefore, any man who could con-
quer death, even momentarily, would
fulfil that prophecj'. Satan being
lightning, personified, and virgin
blood l^ing a cleanser from the
Adamic sin, why not make use of one
of the fallen Archangel’s own weap-
ons — fight fire with fire, so to speak —
and bring about a perpetual existence
here?

S EVEN — mj^stic number! The golden
candlesticks were seven upon the
altar : there were seven lean and seven
plenteous years of King Pharaoh’s
reign ; the seven-word vow of eternal
celibacy must be chanted by a novi-
tiate of twice seven j’-ears -with one
hand upon a crucifix, the other up-
raised toward the Seven Stars; the
seven di’ops of blood must be taken
from the virgin’s side — eleetrifj’’ those
precious drops of consecrated blood

with a voltage, the middle number of
which racist be seven — God ! He saw it
all as clearly as he could see the sun
at noonday !

News item — ^Artificial lightning has
just been produced; anywhere from
250,000 to one million volts.

Eldon smiled in a pitying way as
he mused, "They are making a gi’eat
to-do over their ‘ new ’ discovery. That
is a year-old successful experiment
with me, else I would not now attempt
this demonstration.

T he morgue — cold, cruel repository
of silent forms.

"How long has this man been
dead?” Eldon inquired, indicating a
glass-topped refrigerating-ease.

"About thirty hours, rir,” the
keeper answered. "Unidentified, too,
as you see by the blue tag. Guess
the comity will have him to bury.
Looks like suicide to me.”

"Not embalmed yet, of course, or
he wouldn’t be under refrigeration.”

"No. Nobody in sight to pay the
bill. If the county gets him, he’ll go
in ‘cold’,” the keeper replied grimly.

Eldon leaned over and placed a bill
in the other’s hand. ‘ ‘ Lay off the em-
balming and send the body to my lab-
oratory. I’ll fix it with Mr. Rotlie.”

"Yes, sir, coming up, sir.” The
keeper already knew the color of El-
don’s money. It was always yellow.

O NCE more Stanton J. Eldon was in
his element. He was nearly ready
for the greatest experiment of his ca-
reer.

The body of the unknown had been
electrically heated to 77 degrees; the
seven drops of virgin blood had been
injected, together with the venom of
the species of serpent by which the
Israelites were bitten and later healed
b}’^ the serpent of brass upon the pole ;
and the scientist stood with his hand
upon a controlling rheostat from
which led four high-tension wires : one
of them to an anMe of the coi^se ; an-
other to the top of his head, and the

696

WEIRD TALES

others directly into a dynamic aerial-
fluid generator capable of producing
artificial lightning up to one million
volts!

A greenish-blue light enshrouded
the silent subject. Novr, if Eldon’s
preposterous formula to offset the ter-
rible voltage — ^yet to be applied — ^was
correct, all would be well ; if not, an
electrical cremation would result in-
stead of a prospective resurrection.

Gruesome t Stanton J. Eldon knew
no such word. Why should the dead
body of a man excite any emotions
different from those which might be
occasioned by the sight of a fowl slain
for dinner ? It was all in the state of
mind. Ghosts, spooks, and hobgoblins
held no terrors for him. He had
never known of the presence of an
ogre at the advent of a human being
into this world; why should there be
any at one’s exit? The fear of death,
he said to himself, has l^n fostered
by religious fanatics since the dawn
of Creation, and civilization has paid
dearly for it — is still paying.

One of Eldon’s friends had told
him that if there was any such thing
as spirit return, if Eldon would go
and sit on his friend’s grave at mid-
night on the day Mlowing his demise,
he would make himself manifest if
possible. The instructions had been
carried out, not only once, but for
seven successive nights, and nothing
had happened; so Eldon had smoked
his black cigars in vain.

If there was anything on the Other
Side, he wanted first-hand informa-
tion concerning it. In his heart of
hearts he might consider the possibil-
ity of another life ; but scoffed at the
idea of a spirit’s return from that
life to this mundane sphere. (Secret-
ly, he may have been like the old
negro, Hambone, who said; *‘No, sah.
I don’t bleeb in ghosts, but I don’t
want no truck wid ’em.”)

E ldon turned the knob of the rheo-
stat dowly, almost imperceptibly,
and» familiar though he was with

nearly every sort of crazy experiment,
he gave a little grunt of approval as
the body before him moved slightly
according to his imagined schtdule,
when the voltmeter showed the
257,000 mark.

Was there any merit to words of in-
cantation? Well — they were sup-
posed to be the very foundation of all
hocus-pocus, exorcism, magic and
mystery ; so they must form a part of
his own oonjury in this case.

“Peace, be still,” the Supreme
Magician of the Universe had com-
manded, and the winds and the waves
had obeyed. He could have calmed
them jud as easily with never a word.

“In the name of Jesus Christ of
Nazareth, rise up and walk,” said
his Apostle, and a cripple, lame from
his mother’s womb, arose and began
leaping and praising.

Furthermore, the Supreme Magi-
cian had promised; “If ye believe,
greater things than these ye shall do.”

Well — Eldon never doubted the
Master’s ability to do those things,
but he was jast a little skeptical re-
galing his own personal powers.
However, he woul^'t dispute the
Master’s w'ord; so his fingers clutched
the rheostat knob a little tighter, and
he intoned a sacred formula from the
Old Testament which he had selected
as best suited for the occarion ; ‘ ‘ Thou
of the Valley of Dry Bones, rise up
and salute.” . . .

A long pause. Once more he chant-
ed; “As I passed by Thee ... I
said while Thou wast in thy blood;
yea, I said while Thou wast in thy
blood, live.”

The clammy thing upon the table
slowly opened its eyes, its tongue
moistened its lips; a smacking sound
followed, and it spoke in ghastly un-
natural tones such as might have come
forth from the tomb itself!

“Gladys, you’re all I’ve ever cared
for, and now to think that you would
betray me — ^would be unfaithful. . . .
See this gun? I’ve always said tiiat
no wife of mine could ever betray me

SEVEN DROPS OF BLOOD

697

and get away with it ! No ! . I won ’t let
go of your arm, I don’t give a damn
if I do break it, for I’ni going to send
your cheating soul to Hell anjTvay. . . :

“Oh, my Grod! Gladys — I didn’t
intend to do that! Gladys! Gladys!
speak to me!”

The frightful guttural crj' which
came from the living-dead Franken-
stein-monster before Eldon was music
to his scientific ears; For he had
bruised the Serpent’s head! He had
conquered death!

The horrid spokesman upon the
table continued: “Why, hello, Jim.
Yes; I shot her and then killed my-
self! . . . What a beautiful grove of
trees ! . . . And over there is the River
of Life and the Sea of Glass! . . .
Where is that music coming from?
. . . Gee, I’m thirsty! That was cer-
tainly a glorious drink. Is one’s
slightest wish gratified here? I wish
I could see Gladys. . , . Why, there
she is now ! How radiantly beautiful
she appears! . . . But she deceived
me, Jim. ... I wish I knew the truth !
. . . Oh, Jim! I do know the truth!
Gladys is coming toward me. I wor-
ship her, Jim. 'Then I ‘saw through a
glass, darkly, ’ but now I see ‘ face to
face.’ . . . She’s gone! , . . She was
tempted. ... I understand. . . . The
Master forgave her as he forgave the
woman they would have stoned. . . .
And now — look! Look! Those two are
together ! See, they embrace ! . . . The
Magdalene came to meet Gladys to tell
her she need have no fears. . . . Gladys
will be transformed, too; made pure
and holy. , . . And I will join Gladys
after I go through a slight purgatorial
fire. . . . Jim! Jim! tell me more!
. . . Quick! Jim — I’ve started back
to earth and I don’t want to go! The
world is such a hell! Nothing there
but misery and wo, . . . Heaven much
better than even this? . . . This only
Paradise, you say? . . , Oh, Jim! I’m
going back . . . Yes, yes — I see who
is doing it ! I know many things now.
Death, which I dreaded so much, I
find to be but the open door to com-

plete happiness. ... Yes, yes. I’ll
make that scientist ”

T he hideous form half arose from
the table and turning, looked
straight at Eldon with a gaze so all-
seeing in those dead yet living orbs,
that for a moment the scientist ceased
chewing his black cigar.

“You fool!” The words burned
the very air. “You miserable, con-
temptible, experimenting fool ! Inter-
fering with the plans of the gods!
Why, I wouldn’t be back on your ac-
cursed planet if you were to deed me
the worthless thing! If a murderer,
even as I, has a chance over Yonder,
what will it mean to one who has
always played square ! . . . Open that
switch!”

Eldon shifted the cigar to the other
side of his mouth and chewed vig-
orously upon it for several secontb.
Then he spoke:

“Not so fast. Brother. It’s been
some time since I’ve conversed with
anybody with one foot over the Bor-
derline, so to speak ; and, as this will
doubtless be my last opportunity to
do so, I would like to ask a few ques-
tions. The first one is: ‘Is your cor-
poreal body suffering any pain?’ ”
“The torture is intolerable !” the
other cried vehemently.

“One truth!” Eldon ejaculated.
“There has been some doubt as to
whetlier restored dead flesh has any
feeling. That point is settled. Now I
want to slip just a little more current
to you. Perhaps I can be able to give
you the eternal life possessed by the
Fallen Archangel. How’s that?” He
shot the needle around to the 500,000
mark!

The monster w'as jerked violently
backward a distance of ei^teen
inches, then sat bolt upright. A mo-
ment in that position and one foot
was lifted outward and downward to
the floor. The other followed, and the
indescribable cadaver arose from the
table, and with short, jerky steps — ^its
progress impeded by the heavy copper

698

WEIRD TALES

electrodes and the large insulated
wires — it started toward Eldon, point-
ing a curv’ed, rigid finger into his
face ! The scientist backed away. One
touch from the tips of those fingers
of destruction and he would be in
possession of full information regard-
ing the Other Shore.

An eai*-blighting shriek came from
the lips of the walking remains.

“You fiend ! Y ou damnable hellion !
Look at my hands — the flesh is be-
ginning to roast ! You are destroying
my body and soul ! My body will be
consumed to ashes, and my soul con-
signed to oblmon ! Open that switch ! ’ *

Eldon saw — ^heard — and smelled
the diabolical scene of his own mak-
ing ; saw the flesh beginning to shrivel
like cracklings; heard the blood
seething; his nostrils were filled with
the naixseating odor, and he knew that
the virgin blood was being overcome
by the terrible voltage — an improper
mixtui’e somewhere! He couldn’t
reach the rheostat for the death-
dealing fingers before him, so he ran
to the master switch and kicked it
open.

The buniing carcass wavered back
and forth, then laughed — ^a hideous,
■^niltural croak which came from melt-
ing vocal chords !

“Has-iss — ^Iieiss — awk! Great news
for you — Eldon.” The spark of life
still talked, though going fast.
“You’ll join me — ^May 21st — 1930 —
ten a. m. — auto wi’eck — aw'k-hiss-

hiss ! ’ ’ The imcanny volcanic manikin
slumped down, sack-like. . . . Eldon
wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

T wo hours later he entered the
morgue. “Heard anything yet
about our unknown?” he inquired.

“Yes; I was just going to phone
you. We have learned his name. He’s
a guy from up Slayton way. Killed
himself after croakin’ his wife. I
think they said her name was Gladys.
They were foimd out on a country
road by the side of an old Ford car.

. . . Win', what’s the matter — ^s'ou
sick ? ’ ’

Eldon had swallowed his cigar stub
at the sudden confirmatory words of
his experiment!

“No need to embalm the body when
I return it,” he said. His voice was
weak and he was very pale. “It has
been electrically embalmed. You may
charge them for the job, however, if
they want embalming done, and keep
the money.”

The keeper rubbed his chin in a
thoughtful way. “Embalmed by elec-
tricity. That’s a new one. Must be
j'our latest, eh?”

Eldon walked slowly toward the
front. “Yes,” he replied, “and I
tliink it will be my last.”

When he reached the door he turned
and called back: “Say, by the way;
do you want to buy a good automo-
bile, cheap?”

The Magic Egg

By FRANK R. STOCKTON

T he pretty little tlieater at-
tached to the building of the
Unicom Club had been hired
for a certain January afternoon by
Mr, Herbert Loring, who wished to
give therein a somewhat novel per-
formance to which he had invit^ a
small audience consisting entirely of
friends and acquaintances.

Loring was a handsome fellow about
thirty years old, who had traveled far
and studied much. He had recently
made a long sojourn in the far East,
and his friends had been invited to
the theater to see some of the wonder-
ful things he had brought from that
coimtry of wonders. As Loring was a
clubman, and belonged to a family of
good social standing, his circle of ac-
quaintances was large, and in this
circle a good many unpleasant re-
marks had been made regarding the
proposed entertainment — made, of
course, by the people who had hot been
invited to be present. Some of the
gossip on the subject had reached Lor-
ing, who did not hesitate to say that
he could not talk to a crowd, and that
he did not care to show the curious

•From A Pack; c<w7rie:ht. X897, by

Charles Scribner’s Sons. By permission of the
publisheiB.

things he had collected to people who
would not thoroughly appreciate
them. He had been very particular
in regard to his invitations.

At three o’clock on the appointed
afternoon nearly all the people who
had been invited to the Unicom
theater were in their seats. No one
had stayed away except for some very
good reason, for it was well known
Qiat if Herbert Loring offered to show
anything it was worth seeing.

About forty people were present,
who sat talking to one another, or ad-
miring the decoration of the theater.
As Loring stood upon the stage —
where he was entirely alone, his ex-
hibition requiring no assistants — he
gazed through a loophole in the cur-
tain upon a very interesting array of
faces. There were the faces of many
men and women of society, of stu-
dents, of workers in various fields of
thought, and even of idlers in all
fields of thought, but there was not
one which indicated a frivolous or list-
less disposition. The owners of those
faces had come to see something, and
they wished to see it.

For a quarter of an hour after the
time announced for the opening of the
exhibition Loring peered through the

699

700

WEIRD TALES

hole in the cairtain, and then, al-
though all the people he had expected
had not arrived, he felt it would not
do for him. to wait any longer. The
audience was composed of well-bred
and courteous men and women, but
despite their polite self-restraint Lor-
ing could see that some of them were
getting tired of waiting. So, very re-
luctantly, and feeling that further
delay was impossible, he raised the
curtain and came forward on the
stage.

Briefly he annoimeed that the ex-
hibition would open with some fire-
works he had brought from Korea. It
was plain to sec that the statement
that fireworks were about to be set off
on a theater stage, by an amateur, had
rather startled some of the audience,
and Loring hastened to explain that
these were not real fireworks, but that
they weiHi contrivances made of
colored glass, which were illuminated
by the powerful lens of a lantern
which was placed out of sight, and
while the. apparent pyrotechnic dis-
play would resemble fireworks of
strange and grotesque designs, it
would be absolutely without danger.
He brought out some little bmiches of
bits of coloi’cd glass, hung tliem at
some distance apart on a wii‘c which
was stretched across the stage just
high enough for him to reach it, and
then lighted his lantern, which he
placed in one of the wings, lowered all
the lights in the theater, and began
his exhibition.

As Loring turned his lantern on one
of the clusters of glass lenses, strips,
and points, and, unseen himself,
eaiLsed them to move by means of long
coi’ds attached, the effects wore beau-
tiful and maiwelous. Little wheels of
colored fire rapidly revolved, minia-
ture rockets appeared to rise a few
feet and to explode in the air, and
while all the ordinary forms of fire-
works were produced on a diminutive
scale, there were some effects that
were entirely novel to the audience.
As the light was turned successively

upon one and another of the clusters
of glass, sometimes it would flash
along the whole line so rapidly that
all the various combinations of color
and motion seemed to be combined in
one, and then for a time each particu-
lar set of fii’eworks would blaze,
sparkle, and coriiscate by itself, scat-
tering particles of colored light, as if
they had been real sparks of fire.

This curious and beautiful exliibi-
tion of miniature pjTOteclmics was
extremely interesting to the audience,
who gazed upward with rapt and
eager attention at the line of wheels,
stars, and revolving spheres. So far
as interest gave evidence of satisfac-
tion, there was never a better satisfied
audience. At fii'st there had been
.some hu.shed murmurs of pleasure,
but very soon the attention of eveiy-
one seemed so completely engros.sed by
the dazzling display that they simply
gazed in silence.

For twent}’^ minutes or longer the
glittering show went on, and not a
sign of weariness or inattention was
made by any one of the assembled
company. Then gradually the coloi'S
of the little fireworks faded, the stars
and wheels revolved more slowly, the
lights in the body of the theater were
gradually raised, and the stage cur-
tain went softly do\vn.

Anxiously, and a little pale, Her-
bert Loring peered through the loop-
hole in tlie curtain. It was not easy to
judge of the effects of his exhibition,
and he did not know whether or not it
had been a success. There was no ap-
plause, but, on the other hand, there
was no sign that anyone resented the
exhibition as a childish display of
colored lights. It was impossible to
look upon that audience without be-
lieving that they had been thoroughly
interested in what they had seen, and
that they expected to see more.

For two or three miautes Loring
gazed through his loophole and then,
still with some doubt in his heart, but
with a little more eolor in his cheeks,

THE MAGIC EGG

701

he prepared for the second part of his
performance.

At this moment there entered the
theater, at the very back of the house,
a young lady. She was handsom'e and
well-di’essed, aiid as she opened the
door — Loring had employed no ushers
or other assistants in this little social
performance — she paused for a mo-
ment and looked into the theater, and
then noiselessly stepped to a chair in
the back row, and sat down.

This was Edith Starr, who, a month
before, had been betrothed to Herbert
Loring. Edith and her mother had
been invited to this performance, and
front seats had been reserved for
them, for each guest had received a
numbered card; but Mrs. Starr had a
headache, and could not go out that
afternoon, and for a time her daugh-
ter had thought that she too must
give up the pleasure Loring had
promised her, and stay with her
mother. But when the elder lady
dropped into a quiet sleep, Edith
thought that, late as it was, she would
go by herself, and see what she could
of the performance.

She was quite certain that if her
presence were known to Loring he
would stop whatever he was doing un-
til she had been provided with a seat
which he thought suitable for her, for
he had made a point of her heing
properly seated when he gave the
invitations. Therefore, being equally
desirous of not disturbing the per-
formance and of not being herself
conspicuous, she sat behind two rather
large men, where she could see the
stage perfectly well, but where she
herself would not be likely to be seen.

I N A few moments the curtain rose,
and Loring came forward, carry-
ing a small, light table, which he
placed near the front of the stage, and
for a moment stood quietly by it.
Edith noticed upon his face the ex-
pression of uncertainty and anxiety
which had not yet left it. Standing
by the side of the table, and speaking

r

very slowly, but so clearly that his
words could be heard distinctly in all
parts of the room, he began some in-
troductory remarks regarding the sec-
ond part of his performance,

“The extraordinary, and I may
say marvelous, thing which I am
about to show you,” he said, “is
known among East Indian magicians
as the magic egg. The exhibition is a
very uncommon one, and has seldom
been seen by Americans or Euro-
peans, and it was by a piece of rare
good fortune that I became possessed
of the appliances necessary for this
exhibition. They are indeed very few
and simple, but never before, to the
best of my knowledge and belief, have
they been seen outside of India. _

“I will now get the little box which
contains the articles necessary for this
magical performance, and I will say
that if I had time to tell you of the
strange and amazing adventure which
resulted in my possession of this box,
I am sure you would be as much in-
terested in that as I expect you to be
in the contents of the box. But, in or-
der that none of you may think this
is an ordinary trick, executed by
means of concealed traps or doors, I
wish you to take particular notice of
this table, which is, as you see, a plain,
unpainted pinetable with nothing but
a flat top, and four straight legs at
the comers. You can see imder and
around it, and it gives no opportunity
to conceal anything.” Then, stand-
ing for a few moments as if he had
something else to say, he turned and
stepped toward one of the wings.

Edith was troubled as she looked at
her lover during these remarks. Her
interest was great — greater, indeed,
than that of the people about her —
but it was not a pleasant interest.
As Loring stopped speaking, and
looked about him, there was a momen-
tary flush on his face. She knew this
was caused by excitement, and she
was pale from the same cause.

Very soon Loring came forward,
and stood by the table.

702

WEIRD TALES

“Here is the box,” he said, “of
which I spoke, and as I hold it up I
think you can all see it. It is not large,
being certainly not more than tw'elve
inches in len^ and two deep, but it
contains some veiy wonderful things.
The oiitside of this box is covered with
delicate engraving and carving which
you can not see, and these marks and
lines have, I thmk, some magical
meaning, but I do not know what it
is. I will now open the box, and show
you what is in.side. The first thing I
take out is this little stick, not thicker
than a lead-pencil, but somewhat
longer, as you see. This is a magical
wand, and is covered with inscrip-
tions of the same character as those
on the outside of the box. The next
thing is this little red bag, well filled,
as you see, which I shall put on the
table, for I shall not yet need it.

“Now I take out a piece of cloth
which is folded into a very small com-
pass, but as I unfold it you will per-
ceive that it is more than a foot
square, and is covered with embroid-
ery. All those strange lines and fig-
ures in gold and red, which you can
plainly see on the cloth as I hold it
up, ai‘e also characters in the same
magic language as those on the box
and wand. I will now spread the cloth
on the table, and then take out the
only remaining thing in the box, and
this is nothing in the world but an
egg — a simple, ordinary hen’s egg, as
you all see as I hold it up. It may be
a trifle larger than an ordinary egg,
but then, after all, it is nothing but a
common egg — that is, in appearance;
in reality it is a good deal more.

“Now I will begin the perform-
ance,” and as he stood by the back
of the table over which he had been
slightly bending, and threw his eyes
over the audience, his voice was
stronger, and his face had lost all its
pallor. He was evidently warming up
with his subject.

“I now take up this wand,” he
said, “which, while I hold it, gives
me power to produce the phenomena

which you are about to behold. You
may not all believe that there is einy
magic whatever about this little per-
formance, and that it is all a bit of
machinery; but whatever you may
think about it, you shall see what jmu
shall see.

“Now with this wand I gently touch
this egg which is lying on the square
of cloth. I do not believe you can see
what htis happened to this egg, but I
will tell you. There is a little line, like
a hair, entirely around it. Now that
line h^ become a crack. Now you can
see it, I know. It grows wider and
wider! Look! The shell of the egg is
separating in the middle. The whole
egg slightly moves. Do you notice
that? Now you can see something yel-
low showing itself between the two
parts of the shell. See ! It is moving a
good deal, and the two halves of the
.shell are separating more and more!
And now out tumbles this queer little
object. Do yoxi see what it is? It is a
poor, weak, little chick, not able to
stand, but alive— alive! You can all
perceive that it is alive. Now you can
see that it is standing on its feet,
feebly enough, but still standing.

“Behold, it takes a few stejMs! You
can not doubt that it is alive, and
came out of that egg. It is beginning
to walk about over the cloth. Do you
notice that it is picking the embroid-
ery? Now, little chick, I will give you
something to eat. This little red bag
contains grain, a magical grain, ^vith
which I shall feed the chicken. Yoxi
must excuse my awkwardness in open-
ing the bag, as I still hold the wand ;
but this little stick I must not drop.
See, little chick, tliere are some grains.
They look like rice, but, in fact, I have
no idea what they are. But he knows,
he knows ! Look at him ! See how he
picks it up ! There ! He has swallo%ved
one, two, three. That will do, little
chick, for a fii'st meal.

“ The grain seems to have strength-
ened him already, for see how lively
he is, and how his yellow down stands
out on him, so puffy and warm ! You

THE MAGIC EGG

703

are looking for some more grain, are
yon? Well, you can not have it just
yet, and keep away from those pieces
of egg-shell, which, by the way, I will
put back into the box. Now, sir, try
to avoid the edge of tlie table, and to
quiet you, I will give you a little tap
on the back with my wand. Now, then,
please observe closdy. The down
which just now covered him has al-
most gone. He is really a good deal
bigger, and ever so much u^ier. Sec
the little pin-feathers sticking out
over him! Some spots, here and there,
are almost bare, but he is ever so
much more active. Ha ! Listen to that !
He is so strong that you can hear hw
beak as he pecks at the table. He is
actually growing bigger and bigger
before our very eyes ! See that funny
little tail, how it begins to stick up,
and quills are showing at the end of
his wings.

“Another tap, and a few more
grains. Careful, sir! Don’t tear the
cloth ! See how rapidly he grows ! He
is fairly covered with feathers, red
and black, witli a tip of yellow in
front. You could hardly get that fel-
low into an ostrich egg! Now, then,
what do you think of him? He is big-
enough for a broiler, though I don’t
think anyone would want to take him
for that purpose. Some more grain,
and another tap from my wand. See !
He does not mind the little stick, for
he has been used to it from his very
birth. Now, then, he is what you would
call a good half-grown chick. Rather
more than half grown, I should say.
Do you notice his tail? There is no
mistaking him for a pullet. The long
feathers are beginning to curl over,
already. He must have a little more
grain. Look out, sir, or you will be
off the table! Come back here! This
table is too small for him, but if he
were on the floor you could not see
him so well.

“Another tap. Now see that comb
on the top of his head; you scarcely
noticed it before, and now it is bright
red. And see his spurs beginning to

show — on good thicR legs, too. There
is a fine young fellow for you! Look
how he jerks his head from side to
side, like the young prince of a poul-
try-yard, as he well deserves to be!"

The attentive interest which had at
first characterized the audience now
changed to excited admiration and
amazement. Some leaned forward
with mouths wide open. Others stood
up so that they could see -better.
Ejaculations of astonishment and
wonder were heard on every side, and
a more thoroughly fascinated and ab-
sorbed audience was never seen.

“Now, my friends,’’ Loring con-
tinued, “I wiU. give this handsenne
fowl another tap. Behold the result —
a noble, full-grown cock! Behold his
spui’s; they are nearly an inch long!
See, there is a comb for you; and
what a magnificent tail of green and
black, contrasting so finely with the
deep red of the rest of his body ! Well,
sir, you are truly too big for this
table. As I can not give you more
room, I will set you up higher. Move
over a little, and T will set this chair
on the table. There! Up on the seat!
That’s right, but don’t stop; there is
the back, which is higher yet! Dp
with you! Ha! There, he nearly upset
the chair, but I will hold it. See! He
has turned around. Now, then, look
at him. See his wings as he flaps
them ! He could fly with such wings.
Look at him ! See that swelling
breast ! Ha, ha ! Listen ! Did you ever
hear a crow like that? It fairly rings
through the house Yes; I Imew it?
There is another!’’

At this point, the people in th©
house were in a state of wild excite-
ment. Nearly all of them were on
their feet, and they were in such a
condition of frantic enthusiasm that
Loring was afraid some of them might
make a run for the stage.

“Come, sir," cried Loring, now al-
most shouting, “that will do; you
have shown us the strength of your
lun^. Jump down on the seat of the
chair, now on the table. There, I will

704

WEIRD TALES

take away the chair, and you can
stand for a moment on the table, and
let our friends look at you, but only
for a moment. Take that tap on your
back. Now do you see any difference?
Perhaps you may not, but I do. Yes;
I believe you all do. He is not the big
fellow he w’as a minute ago. He is
really smaller ; only a fine cockerel. A
nice tail that, but with none of the
noble sweep that it had a minute ago.
No; don’t try to get off the table. You
can’t escape my wand. Another tap.
Behold a half-grown chicken, good to
eat, but with not a crow in him. Hun-
gry, ai*e you? But 3’’ou need not pick
at the table that way. You get no
more gi*ain, but only this little tap.
Ha! Ha! What are j'ou coming to?
There is a chicken barely feathered
enough for us to tell what color he is
going to be.

“Another tap will take still more
of the conceit out of him. Look at
him ! There are his pin-feathers, and
his bare spots. Don ’t try to get away ;
I can easilj’ tap you again. Now, then.
Here is a lovely little chick, fluffy
\nth j'ellow down. He is active
enough, but I shall' quiet him. One
tap, and now what do you see? A poor
feeble chicken, scarcely able to .stand,
with his down all packed close to him
as if he had been out in the rain. Ah,
little chick, I will take the two halves
of the egg-shell from which j'ou came,
and put them on each side of you.
Come now, get in! I close them up;
.you are lost to view. There is nothing
to be seen but a crack around the
shell! Now it has gone! There, my
friends, as I hold it on high, behold
the magic egg, exactlj’’ as it was when
I first took it out of the box, into
which I will place it again, with the
cloth and the wand and the little red
bag, and shut it up with a snap. I
wall let j’ou take one more look at this
box before I put it away behind the
scenes. Are you satisfied with what I
have showni you? Do yon think it is
really as w'onderful as you supposed
it would be?”

At these word.s the whole audience
burst into riotous applause, during
which Loring disappeared-; but he
was back in a moment.

“Thank j’ou!” he cried, bowing
low, and waving his arms before him
in tlie manner of an Eastern magician
making a salaam. From side to side
lie turned, bowing and thanking, and
then with a hearty, ‘ ‘ Good-bye to you,
good-b.ve to you all ! ” he stepped back,
and let do-wn the curtain.

For some moments the audience re-
mained in their seats as if they were
expecting something more, and then
thej' rose quietly and began to dis-
perse. Most of them were acquainted
with one anotlier, and there was a
good deal of greeting and talking as
they went out of the theater.

When Loring was sure the last per-
son had departed, he turned down the
lights, locked the door, and gave the
key to the steward of the club.

He walked to his home a happy
man. His exhibition had been a per-
fect success, with not a break or a
flaw in it from beginning to end.

“I feel,” thought the young man,
as he strode along, “as if I could fly
to the top of that steeple, and flap
and crow until all the world heard
me.”

T hat evening, as was his daily cus-
tom, Herbert Loring called upon
Miss Starr. He found the young lady
in the library.

“I came in here,” she said, “be-
cause I have a good deal to talk to
j'ou about, and I do not want inter-
ruptions.”

With this arrangement the young
man expressed his entire satisfaction,
and immediately began to inquire the
cause of her absence from his exhibi-
tion in the afternoon.

“But I was there,” said Edith.
“You did not see me, but I was there.
Mother had a headache, and I went
by mj'self.”

“You were there!” exclaimed Lor-
ing, almost starting from his chair.

Thrillers Prove Good
Nerve Tonic

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706

WEIRD TALES

*‘I don’t understand. You were not in
your seat.”

”No,” answered Edith; “I was on
the veiy back row of seats. You could
not see me, and I did not wish you to
see me.”

” Edith!” exclaimed Loring, rising
to his feet, and leaning over the li-
brary table, which was between them.
‘‘When did you come? How much of
the performance did you see?”

‘‘I was late,” she said; ‘‘I did not
arrive until after the fireworks, or
whatever they "were.”

For a moment Loring was silent, as
if he did not understand the situa-
tion.

“Fireworks!” he said. “How did
you know there had been fireworks?”

‘ ‘ I heard the people talking of them
as they left the theater,” she an-
swered.

“And what did they say?” he in-
quired, quickly.

“They seemed to like them very
well,” she replied, “but I do not
think they were quite satisfied. Prom
what I heard some peraons say, I in-
feried that they thought it was not
very much of a show to which you
had invited them.”

Again Loring stood in tliought,
looking down at the table ; but before
he could speak again, Edith sprang to
her feet.

‘ ‘ Herbert Loring, ’ ’ she cried, ‘ ‘ what
does all this mean? I was there dm*-
ing the whole of the exliibition of
what you called the magic egg. I saw
all those people wild with excitement
at the wonderful sight of the chicken
that came out of the egg, and grew to
full size, and then dwindled dovni
again, and went back into the egg,
and, Herbert, thei'e was no egg, and
there was no little box, and there was
no wand, and no embroidered cloth,
and there was no red bag, nor any
little chick, and there was no full-
grown fowl, and there was no chair
that you put on the table ! There was

nothing, absolutely nothing, but you
and that table! And even the table
was not what you said it was. It was
not an unpainted pine table wth four
straight legs. It was a table of dark
polished Avood, and it stood on a
single post with feet. There was
nothing there that you said was there;
eveiything was a sham and a delu-
sion; every word you spoke was un-
true. And yet eA^erybody in that
theater*, excepting you and me, saAV
all the thmgs that you said Avere on
the stage. I knoAV they saw them all,
for I Avas AA'ith the people, and heard
them, and saw them, and at times I
fairly felt the thrill of enthusiasm
Avhich possessed them as they glared
at the miracles and AA’onders you said
were happening.”

Loring smiled. “Sit doAvn, my dear
Edith,” he said. “You are excited,
and there is not the slightest cause for
it. I will explain the Avhole affair to
you. It is simple enough. You know
that study Ls the great object of my
life. I study all sorts of things, and
just noAv I am greatly interested ia
hypnotism. The subject has become
fascinating to me; I have made a
great many successful trials of my
poAver, and the affair of this .after-
noon Avas nothing but a trial of my
poAA'ers on a more extensiA'c scale than
anytlxing I have yet attempted. I
Avanted to see if it Avere possible for
me to hypnotize a considerable num-
ber of people Avithout anyone suspect-
ing Avhat I intended to do. The result
Avas a success. I hjTpnotized all those
people by means of the fii’st part of
my performance, which consisted of
some combinations of colored glass
Avith lights throAMi upon them. They
reA'olved, and looked like fireAVorks,
and Avere strung on a Avire high up on
the stage.

“I kept up the glittering and daz-
zling shoAA' — Avhich Avas Avell worth
seeing, I can assure you — ^until the
people had been straining their eyes
upAvard for almost half an hour; and
tliis sort of thing — I Avill tell yoii if

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708

WEIRD TALES

you do not know it — ^is one of the
methods of producing hypnotic sleep.

“There was no one present who
was not an impressionable subject,
for I was very careful in sending out
my invitations, and when I became al-
most certain that my audience was
thoroughly hypnotized, I stopped the
show, and began the real exliibition,
which was not really for their benefit,
but for mine.

“Of course, I was dreadfully anx-
ious for fear I had not succeeded en-
tirely, and that there might be at least
some one person who had not suc-
cumbed to the hypnotic influences,
and so I tested the matter by bringing
out that table, and telling them it was
something it was not. If I had had
any reason for supposing that some of
the audience saw the table as it ready
was, I had an e^lanation ready, and
I oould have retired from my position
without anyone supposing that I had
intended making hypnotic experi-
ments. The rest of the exhibtion would
have been some things that any one
could see, and as soon as possible I
would have released from their spell
those who were hypnotized. But when
I became positively assured that
everyone saw a light pine table with
four straight legs, I confidently went
on with the i)erformanees of the
magic egg.”

Edith Starr was still standing by
the library table. She had not heeded
Loring’s advice to sit down, and she
was trembling with emotion.

“Herbert Loring,” she said, “you
invited my mother and me to that ex-
hibition. You gave us tickets for front
seats, where we would be certain to be
hypnotized if your experiment suc-
ceeded, and you would have made us
see that false show, which faded from
those people’s minds as soon as they
recovered from the spell ; for as they
went away they were talking only of
the fireworks, and not one of them
mentioned a magic egg, or a chicken,
or anything of the kind. Answer me
this: Did you not intend that I should

come and be put under that spell?”

Loring smiled. “ Yes, ” he said, “ of
course I did; but then your case
would have been different from that
of the other spectators, for I should
have explained the whole thing to
you, and I am sure we would have
had a great deal of pleasure, and
profit too, in discussing your experi-
ences. The subject is extremely ”

“Explain to me!” she cried. “You
would not have dared to do it! I do
not know how brave you may be, but
I know you would not have had the
courage to come here and tell me that
you had taken away my reason and
my judgment, as you took them away
from all those people, and that you
had made me a mere tool of your will
— glaring and panting with excite-
ment at the wonderful things you
told me to see where nothing existed.
I have nothing to say about the
others ; they can 8i)eak for themselves
if they ever come to know what you
did to them. I speak for myself. I
stood up with the rest of the people. I
gazed with all my power, and over
and over again I a^ed myself if it
could be possible that anything was
the matter with my eyes or my brain,
and if I could be the only person
there who co^ild not see the marvelous
spectacle that you were describing.
But now I know that nothing was
real, not even the little pine table, not
even the man ! ’ ’

“Not even me!” exclaimed Loring,
“Surely I was real enough!”

“On that stage, yes^” she said;
“but you there proved you were not
the Herbert Ixtring to whom I prom-
ised myself. He was an unreal being.
If he had existed he would not have
been a man who would have brought
me to that public place, all ignorant
of his intentions, to cloud my percep-
tions, to subject my intellect to his
own, and make me ^lieve a lie. If a
man should treat me in that way once
he would treat me so at other times,
and in other ways, if he had the
chance. You have treated me in the

WEIRD TALES

709

past as today you treated those peo-
ple who glared at the magic egg. In
the days gone by you made me see an
unreal man, but you wiU never do it
again! Good-bye."

“Edith," cried Loring, “you
don’t ”

But she had disappeared through a
side door, and he never spoke to her
again.

Walking home through the dimly
lighted streets, Loring involuntarily
spoke aloud :

“And this,” he said, “is what came
out of the magic egg!"

The Brain-Thief

(Continued frohn page 605)

pose of the all-conquering West.
Prenziedly he clutched at his maimed
arm, shrinking from de Grandin’s
blazing eyes and menacing steel as a
beaten dog might flinch from an
angrj’- master.

He was a pitiable object as he
crouched and cowered in his chair,
and despite the heartless cruelties he
had confessed, I felt a wave of com-
passion for him.

“Mercy!" he implored, shrinking
still further from the Frenchman.
“Have pity, sahib, you have con-
quered; be merciful!"

Jules de Grandin’s little blue eyes,
hot as molten lava from a volcanic
crater, cold and hard as polar ice,
never changed expression as he glared
down upon the crin^ng man. “Make
no mistake, Monsieur le Serpent,” he
answered in a voice one tone above a
whisper. “I am come not as foeman
unto foeman, but as executioner to
criminal. Vile, stinking swine, your
boastings to Madame Abbot were your
confession, and your confession was
your doom. Such mercy as you showed
to the draper of Lyons, an^ to Ma-
dame Betty, now dead by her own

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710

WEIRD TALES

hand, and to her innocent babe, slain
by your devilishness as surely as
though your accui’sed hands had done
the deed — such mercy as that you may
expect from Jules de Grandin.

“Trowbridge, my good one,” he
called over his shouldei-, “take them
out. Lead Messieurs Norton and Ab-
bot, and Madame Marjorie, to the
front gate and) await me. I have one
damnably ijleasant duty to perform
here, and can not be annoyed by your
mistakenly merciful expostulations.
Mlez- VO us-en — tout vite ! ’ ’

We turned and left him, for there
was a look of command in his face
which would not be denied'; but as we
left I cast a single backward look,
then hun-ied on, for in that fleeting
glance I saw de Grandin seize the
Hindoo’s neck between his slim,
strong hands and force his writhing
face toward' the glowing barrel of the
red-hot stove.

A scream of unsupportable anguish
echoed thi’ough the night as we
reached the gate, but I pushed my
companions before me. “Don’t go
back,” I urged. “He’s getting only
what he deserves, but we couldn’t
bear to watch it, even so.”

I T WAS some ten minutes later as we
trudged along the turnpike toward
the nearest interurban bus station that
Marjoine Abbot, who walked stiffly as
a robot beside her husband, suddenly
threw her hand to her brow and buret
into a fit of wild, uncontrollable
weeping. “Homer — oh, Homer!” she
cried. “Sly dear, I can tell you, now.
I love you, dear; I love you — I didn’t
mean to do it, Ilomer, truly, I didn’t,
but he made me ! Oh, my dear, dear
love, I don’t imderstand it; but I’m
free; I'm free! My lips aren’t sealed
any longer!”

Jules de Grandin chuckled delight-
edly. “Mais mii; mms certainement,
Madame," he laughed. “And never
again shall that butter-faced .son of a
most nnsavorj^ and entirely immoral

pig hold you, or any woman, m his
thrall. No, by damn it, Jules de Gran-
din has made entirely certain of that.
Yes. To be sure!”

A few minutes more we walked,
Homer and Marjorie holding hands as
frankly as countrj^ sweethearts, while
they munnured soft, foolish little en-
dearments in each other’s ears. Then:

*‘Tkns, Monsieur, look not so down-
hearted!” de Grandin ordered Kit
Noi'ton. “Tomorrow morning you
and I — yes, and the good, slow-witted
Trowbi'idge, too — shall seek out Ma-
dame Isabel and tell her the true state
of affaire. She love^ you, nwn vieux.
I’ll swear to it, and when she learns
that what you did was not of your
doing, but because of the blaclt magic
of that most damnable time-thief
whom I have just sent to his proper
place, I bet me your life she -wall
understand and forgive, and you and
she shall once more be happy in each
other’s company.

“Not here,” he added after a mo-
ment’s thought. “The townsfolk
would never understand, and your re-
marriage to Madame Isabel so soonly
after poor Madame Betty’s* tragic
death — it would make fresh scandal
for gossiping tongues to fondle. But
there are other places, and I damn
thinic one place is good as another, or
better, wiien love is your companion.
N'est-ce-pas, Friend Trowbridge ? ” he
dug a sharp elbow into my ribs.

5

“Qee here, de Grandin,” I remarked

^ next morning at breakfast as I
scaimed the headlines of my paper,
“that house we visited last night
burned down. Here’s the story :

Man Dies in Myster3r Blaze

Fire of undetermined origin completely
destroyed the old Spencer homtviU'ad, five
miles from Harrisonville, late last night.
The house, a frame structure, has been
occupied by an East Indian gentleman, Mr.
Chunda Lai, for the past several years. It
••ontaiTK'd no modern improvements, and it

WEIRD TALES

711

is thought the flames started from m over-
heated coal stove or an overturned oil lamp.

The blaze was first noticed by neighbors
who lived a mile or more away, about one
o’clock this morning, but the place was
practically demolished before they could
arrive on the scene. Search of the still
smoking ruins today revealed a human body,
charred past possibility of recognition,
among the debris. It is feared the unfor-
tunate tenant perished in the fire. The loss,
amoimting to $4,600, was covered by in-
surance.

“U’m,” murmured Jules de Gran-
din as he returned the paper, “the
account is graphic, though a trifle in-
accurate. Howeveriy, I fear I shall
not point out the errors to the excel-
lent journalist who wrote the story.
No; it would be better not.”

“But it’s strange the house should
have burned last night,” I returned.
“I suppose it’s one of those fortunate
accidents which ”

“Non, not at all; by no means!” he
cut in. “It would have been strange
had it been otherwise, my friend, for
I took greatest pains that things
should be exactly as they were. After
1 had impressed on this Monsieur
Chunda that it is extremely poor
policy to trifle with other people’s
wives and husbands — that hot stove
proved of greatest help in the process,
I assure you — I carefully bound him
in his ch^, then arranged an alarm
clock in such a way that it would
spring the stove door open when one
o’clock arrived. The door once open,
a flood of glowing 'coals fell outward
on the floor, which I had previously
drenched with kerosene — and the in-
evitable process of combustion took
place. However, the ‘ East Indian
gentleman’ of whom the paper speaks
suffered no inconvenience thereby,
since his soul had gone to the sub-
cellar of hell some hours earlier.

“You remember how poor Madame
Marjorie suddenly regained mastery
of herself as we preceded down the
road last night!” he asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Very good. It was at that moment

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712

WEIRD TALES

the rascally one departed this world
for a place of everlasting torment. I
had been at particular pains not to
bind his wound, and — one can not
bleed for long and remain alive, you
know, my friend. The entirely un-
lamented Chunda Lai and his power
over Madame Marjorie expired at the
same happy instant. Yes.”

“But do you mean he actually did
all those things he boasted of?” I de-
manded. “Is it possible a man, no
matter how clever he might be as a
hypnotist, could so entirely change
people’s natures as he claimed to have
done ? Why, it seems incredible ! ’ ’

“I agree,” the Frenchman nodded,
“but nevertheless, it are true. Con-
sider: In India, where he came from,
the fakirs perform certain tricks
which are explicable only by hyp-
notism. The rope trick, by example.
He declared he could perform it, and
it is one of the few unexplained East-
ern illusions. They apparently throw
a cord into the air, make it fast to
nothing at all, then climb it until they
are lost to sight. No one has ever ex-
plained that. Your own Monsieur
Herman, the magician, tells in his
memoii-s how he offered much money
to anyone who would show him the
technique of the illusion, but no one
came forward to claim the reward.
Why? Because it is a mere illusion of
the eye — a piece of superhypnotism.

“Consider the evidence here: Mon-
sieur Norton tells how, just before he
apparently became a knave of the
first water, he encountered this evil
time-thief in a theater lobby and how
the despicable one waved a bright-set
ring before his eyes. That single flash
was enough to center the victim’s at-
tention. Just what the relationship
between the optic nerves and the
brain centers of ratiocination is we
do not certainly know, but all psychol-
ogists are agreed that shining objects,
or swiftly whirling objects which con-
fuse or blind the eyes, put the subject
in ideal condition for quick and easy

h3rpnosis. In any event, while Mon-
sieur Norton’s thought-guards were
overwhelmed by the flawing of that
ring, the brain-thief leaped in and
took complete possession of his con-
sciousness, captured his will and made
him break the heart of the wife he
loved.

“How the villain captured poor Ma-
dame Betty’s mind we do not know;
but we have the young Abbot’s story
of how his wife was overcome by the
quick flash of a bright object in the
night club, and we have the evidence
of the complete control the miscreant
established over Madame Marjorie.
Certainly. It is all most unusual, and
instances of such hypnotism are for-
tunately rare, but we have seen what
we have seen in this case; two lives
were destroyed and the happiness of
Madame Betty’s first husband de-
molished completely. Had it not been
for Jules de Grandin, both Monsieur
Norton and Madame Isabel, as well as
Monsieur and Madame Abbot, might
also have been made helpless victims
of the vile one’s plottings.

“Parhleu, when I recall the evil
that one wrought it makes me entirely
ni. Quick, Trowbridge, my friend,
assist me. My mouth is filled with a
most unpleasant taste at the very
thought of that never-enough-to-be-
accursed man with the yellow face.
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WEIRD TALES

718

The Sun People

(Continued front page 624)

doom in the fires about them that we
could turn on the vibrations. At
once, though, those vibrations halted
our plunge, since they instantly
annihilated the pull of all the gal-
axy’s suns upon our worlds and upon
each other !

“With that pull destroyed, our
ring of worlds halted at the veiy
edge of doom. Were the pull of those
sims I’estored, they would jerk us
into those fires at once, we knew, but
we knew too that with their attrac-
tion upon each other nullified the
galaxy’s suns were already sepa-
rating and mo\’ing out of its great
swarm. Even now, indeed, the outer-
most of your galaxy’s suns are
almost out of their fellows’ grip for-
ever, and soon all the stars of your
universe will have .separated for all
time, each plunging out into space
alone, with great Canopus alone re-
maining here. So you see how use-
less, how amusing even, it is to ask
me how to turn off the vibration
that is disintegrating your galaxy.
Your single ship could never get
near the central control of the vibra-
tions, through the swarms of squares
and of my cube-creature races that
have answered the alarm by now,
that guard it. And even at this
moment those great vibrations are
breaking up your universe, forever !’’

The mechanical, metallic voice
from the cabinet ceased, and the
cube-creature whose thoughts it had
spoken contemplated us with cool
contempt and amusement flickering in
his alien eyes. J’han Jal, Mirk En,
myself ' and all our crew-members
about us were silent for the moment.
Then J’han Jal pointed .slowly to-
ward the time-dial on the wall.

“Those vibrations that we can’t
halt— and it’s the twentieth hour!”
he said. “Less than an hour left now
before the galaxy’s suns start to pass

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714

WEIRD TALES

forever out of the reach of its
swarm. The twentieth hour — and
never can we reach the cube of con-
trols through the swarms of squares
that guard it! We’ve failed!”

“Not failed!” I cried. “There’s
a chance yet to halt those vibrations
— a chance to get down through
those guarding squares, with this
square of the cube-creatures bound
to our cruiser ”

Swiftly I explained to J’han Jal
and Mirk En the plan that had sug-
gested itself to me, and their eyes
gleamed with sudden hope. Our crew
rushing to its stations. Mirk En and
I guarding for the moment the cube-
creature, J’han Jal raced up to the
control room and sent our cruiser
and the square bound to it humming
back toward the world from which
we had fled. Just inside its at-
mosphere we halted, and though we
could see great ffwarms of squares
crowded with cube-creatures, they
did not glimpse us high above them.
And then Mirk En and I with the
crew’s help swiftly made ready for
our wild feat. Opening the space-
door, we gathered the dead of our
own crew on the square beside our
cruiser and brought them inside the
ship. The cube-creature dead we
stripped of their space-suits, and
arranged them in natural positions
here and there on the surface of the
sqpare. When we had finished, it
seemed to all appearances that the
square beside our ship was crowded
with living cube-creatures like those
below, since they had died for the
most part sy the piercing of their
space-suits and bore but few marks
of battle. They seemed crouching
there on the square’s surface as when
living.

And now Mirk En and I with the
captured little cube-creature walked
out onto the surface of the square,
toward the bulge that held its simple
button-controls. I held a thick metal
bar sharpened at one end and Mirk

En held in his tentacles four of the
same bars. W e had shown these bars
to the cube-creature before leaving
the cruiser, and through the thought-
speech machine had told him that if
he followed our orders his life would
be spai’ed, but that if he attempted
to discover to the other squares and
cube-creatures our stratagem, instant
death would be his. Then, crouching
before that bulge’s buttons, the cube-
creature seemed to all eyes the
operator of the great square, the
dozens of posed dead creatures be-
hind him his fellows, and Mirk En
and I, our bars hidden, two captives !

The great band of metal that se-
cured our cruiser to the square we
left in place, but beside us was the
device by which a thrown lever
would release that band instantly.
So now, with J’han Jal making a
final gesture toward us from the
cruiser’s transparent-walled control
room, we starte<l downward, our pro-
pulsion-mechanisms silent now, the
cube-creature beside us operating the
great square’s propulsion-mechanism
and sending it smoothly do^vnward.
With our cruiser attached to it, with
Mirk En and me apparently captives
among the dozens of cube-men on
the square, it seemed that our cruiser
had been captured by the square
and its cube-creatures, and that they
\vere returning with their prize ! It
was upon that appearance, at least,
that we were depending to prevent
the break-up of the galaxy, to turn
off the great vibrations before the
last minutes of the twentieth hour
had passed.

Downward toward the surface of
the gleaming world we shot, the
cruiser pulled down with the sinking
square, none inside that cruiser
showing, its space-door open. With
pounding heart I crouched there,
gazing across the metal-burnished
surface of the world beneath, across
the giant cube-buildings and the
great masses of squares loaded with

WEIRD TALES

715

cube-creatures that came and went
still above them. Those squares, we
saw, had collected in great swirling
masses above and around the green-
glowing square of force and the
cube of controls beside that glowing
square. Could we penetrate down
through them to that control-cube?
Already scores of those squares were
rushing up toward us, and I turned
to Mirk En as the cube-creature be-
side us sent square and cruiser
dropping still lower.

“Kill him instantly if he tries to
signal to the cube-creatures on these
squares!” I muttered to the Vegan,
and he nodded.

“Now’s the moment !” he breathed.
“If we can pass these squares we’U
have a chance ; if not ”

But now those uprushing squares
were flashing all around us, their
cube-creature occupants gazing in-
tently toward us as they saw square
and cruiser come down thus toward ;
their world together. For a moment |
I held my breath, a moment in which
they gazed down and across our
square, its dead cube-creatures posed
behind us, its cube-creature operator
-and Mirk En and I crouching as
fbough helpless beside him — and in
that moment a single eye that dis-
covered our deception would send a
blast of green crumpling force to-
ward us, I knew. But no green beam
came. Deceived by the life-like ap-
pearance of the dead things behind
us, by the lifeless and captured ap-
pearance of our cruiser, they never
doubted apparently that their fellow-
square had captured our ship. We
sank swiftly among them, and they
dropped down in great swarms all
about us.

jpvowN — down — for tense seconds
we shot through their great
masses of flying squares, down to- i
ward the green force-square and the !
cube of controls, above which
swarmed still greater masses of
guarding squares. Moments more i

A NEW SKIN

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716

WEIRD TALES

and we would be within striking dis-
tance of that cube, I knew ; moments
more and the crimson rays of our
cruiser would whiff it from exist-
ence. From the time-dial on my arm
I saw that the last few minutes of
our last hour were fleeting now, but
even those minutes would be enough,
I knetv, if we w'cre not discovered.
And still we were dropping lower
through the swarms of squares that
swirled as though in exultation at
our capture about and beneath us. I
saw the hope in my own eyes re-
flected in Mirk En’s, and at that
moment came the catastrophe. One
of the squares about us brushed
close for a moment to the edge of our
owm, and a,s it did so, the cube-crea-
ture between Mirk En and me leaped
upw’ard and uttered a strange,
throaty cry.

Even as that cry left the cube-
creature’s mouth-aperture Mirk En’s
metal bars had crashed down
through its body, and he whirled
toward me. “It’s all up, Nort No-
rus!’’ he 5'elled. “The thing’s given
us away!”

But in that same instant, as the
cube-creatures on the squares all
about us gazed stupefiedly toward us,
I flung loose the great band that held
our cruiser to the square, and then
with my hands on that square’s but-
tons I sent it whirling downward.
‘ ‘ The cube-control ! ” I cried. “ We ’ll
fight our way down to it or die try-
ing!”

In that moment our square was
crashing through the swarming
squares about it, whose cube-crea-
tures seemed .stunned by the sudden
revelation of our stratagem, but in
the next moment a hundred green
beams were cleaving toward our
square and toward the crui^r a little
above. With a wild sidewise swoop
of the square I sought to avoid those
beams in that crazy moment, and at
the same time saw Mirk En’s ten-
tacles flashing over the little levers

beside me, and from our own
square’s bulges similar green deadly
shafts were stabbing back in answer.
Outward they drove from us in blind
destruction through the masses of
squares about and beneath us. As
those squares crumpled and fell in
scores, as a mighty w-axing roar of
alarm went over the surface of the
world beneath, I glimpsed our
cruiser above with J’han Jal at its
controls stabbing out lightning-like
to right and left wnth its crimson
rays as it plunged down above us.

Down through the Avildly whirling
masses of squares, laden wnth cube-
creatures, our own square shot as I
pressed upon the buttons that con-
trolled it, as Mirk En sent its green
beams driving outward. My only
memory of the next moments is of
a wild confusion of tossmg, rushing
squares, a sea of metal shapes
covered with crowding eube-crea-
turcs, of other squares rushing from
far away as the grcat alarm went
forth. It seemed incredible to me
even in that moment of awful action
that we could escape the beams that
drove thick about us, but it was the
very numbers of the squares about
us that saved us from annihilation'.
Impeded as they were by the rushing
numbers behind them, the squai’es on
all sides of us could hardly in that
wild moment distinguish between
our o\m square and those about us;
so that for the moment it seemed
almost that all the rushing squares
about us wei’e loosing their beams at
each other in a wild panic of con-
fusion.

Crash! — crash! — crash! — down
through the mass of squares I drove,
crashing into and through them like
a mighty battering-ram of metal,
down toward the cube of controls
that loomed close now beneath us,
the great green force of the square
glo%ving beside it ! Through the
opening in the side of that upraised
cube I could glimpse the myriad

WEIED TALES

717

intricate switches and instruments
inside it, the half-dozen cube-crea-
tures in it. And then as Mirk En
sent our beams smashing through the
squares beneath us, I drove down
through the opening the beams had
made for us, until we hung for a
split-second beside the cube of con-
trols.

A hundred green rays darted down
toward our square as we hung there,
but in the instant before they
reached us Mirk En and I had
leaped, great bars in our grasp, into
the cube beside us. And as the square
from which we leaped crumpled and
fell, as the cube-creatures on the
ground ran madly toward the ladder
that led up to the raised cube, not
daring to loose their rays upon their
great control, the half-dozen crea-
tures inside leapt toward us. But as
they did so there towered before
them the terrific spectacle of Mirk
En, the fighting Vegan’s great octo-
pus-tentacles upraised in air, and
then his bars and my own crashed
down upon those creatures and left
them dead. Up the ladder were
springing other creatures, but Mirk
En beat them down with terrific
blows of his great arms, while our
cruiser above fought and whirled
still with the down-rushing squares,
and I turned toward the switches
about me.

Scores upon scores in numbers
those switches were, unthinkably
intricate combinations of levers and
buttons and dials, and for the mo-
ment I gazed at them in despair,
then raising my great bar sent it
smashing through them. Blow after
blow I let fall upon them, wrecking
the cube-control’s interior, but still
the green force of the great square
was glowing, and now in despair at
sight of what I was doing the swarm-
ing cube-creatures on the ladder were
pressing Mirk En back upward, had
jerked the bars from two of his ten-
tacles and were pouring in upon us.
But as they did so I sent a final

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718

WEIED TALES

great blow smashing through the last
of the intricate switches, and the
green force in the great square
abruptly vanished. And at sight of
that the cube-creatures on the lad-
der, those on the crowding squares
above, over all this world, seemed to
stop, stunned, stupefied!

The great vibration that had been
disintegrating our galaxy was halted,
at last !

In that instant, down through the
motionless, stupefied creatures on the
squares above, our cruiser was rush-
ing, down beside the opening of our
cube for a second, and in that second
Mirk En and I flung ourselves
through the cruiser’s open space-
door, and it was stabbing upward!
Was flashing away from that world’s
surface through the hordes of
stunned cube-creatures, as they
stared motionless toward the cube
whose glowing force had been so
suddenly snapped out! Were staring
uncomprehendingly as now, at last,
the gravitational attraction of the
galaxy’s suns was restored to them;
as those suns exerted again their
pull upon each other and upon this
ring of worlds inside Canopus; as
they pulled back into the galaxy’s
swarm those outermost moving suns
that but now had hoA’ored on the
verge in space ; as they exerted again
their pull upon this ring of worlds
within Canopus, and as that ring be-
gan to spread still farther toward
Canopus^ encircling fires!

For as our cruiser shot up, the
great ring of worlds was spreading!
One by one, slowly, majestically, the
great worlds of that ring were mov-
ing oil’ from its circle in a tangent
towax'd the fires of Canopus, and one
by one as we watched we saw them
go to that stunning, stupefying doom
that had gripped them once more
with the halting of the vibration, saw
them vanishing with all their cube-
creatures and squares and works in
great bursts of flaming vapor as they

passed into the mighty encircling
fires! And in the great hollow at
Canopus’ center our cruiser was left
alone !

Stunned oui'selves in that moment,
J’han Jal and Mirk En and I there in
the cruiser stared out incredulously
into that ti’emendous space at
Canopus’ center that lay empty now
forever, empty of those inner planets
whose cube-creatures had been anni-
hilated before our eyes. We could
not speak, could not move, in that
moment, sxvaying there in the con-
trol room, until at last J’han Jal sent
our ship racing toward those fires in
turn, until my hands opened again
the conti’ol of its heat-nullifying gen-
ei*ators, of its protective ray-sheath.
And then we were rushing again into
groat Canopvxs’ colossal mass of
white flame, even as there sounded
beside us the twentieth hour’s end-
ing; wex‘e rushing outwai’d through
those fires with all the cruiser’s
power in that hour that was to have
been the cube-creatures’ highest hour
of triumph, and that had been in-
stead for them their hour of death.

6

“XTort xorus. Chairman of the
Council of Suns!”

Once again that cry was ringing
forth from the attendants on the
great dais, and once again, with
J’hau Jal and Mii’k En behind me, I
was stepping up onto that dais, fac-
ing the tliousands of member of the
Council about us. But ixow it was
not with silence that those members
greeted ixs bxxt with a wild roar of
cheei's that reverberated thunder-
ously thi'ough the great hall, and
that seemed echoed by the distant
cheers that came to us from the re-
joicing crowds in the cities outside.
Eai’thman, Sivian and Vegan, we
three stood there facing those sliout-
ing thousands of dissimilar form.s,
and then sloxvly and reluctantly their

WEIRD TALES

71S

Av-ild cheers died as I raised a hand
for silence.

“Members of the Council of
Suns,” I spoke to them, “again we
gather here, not this time to consider
a doom hanging over us, but to cele-
brate a doom lifted from us. There
at the center of Canopus, J’han Jal
and Mirk En and I, with pur cruiser
and its crew, found the cube-crea-
tures who had loosed that doom upon
our galaxy, who were even then
breaking up our galaxy with their
great vibrations. And we were able
at the last to thrust back that doom,
to pull back into the galaxy its
farthest out-wandering suns, even as
a more terrible doom was loosed
upon the cube-creatures themselves.
This we were able to do, and for it
you give us your cheers and grati-
tude now. Yet it is not to us that
you .should give them, but to those
who, ages ago, laid the foundations
of our great Federation of Suns.

“For it is through our Federation
of Suns alone that we have thrust
back this doom, and every doom that
has menaced oiir universe. Around
thi.s galaxy of ours, which our ances-
tors of the far past thought so
mighty and which we know to be so
small, there stretch all the mysteries
of space, and out of those mysteries
there have come upon us once and
again terrors of which we dreamed
nothing, great dooms that have taken
all our power and our wisdom to
withstand. But we ^‘^ve -withstood
them always, and though none can
doubt that out of the eternal vast-
nesses of the void in which -we move
there will come other dooms as
mighty, other horrors as terrible, by
massing their power and knowledge
our galaxy’s unlike races shall meet
and withstand those also. For if
our races but hold to that great com-
pact sworn by them ages ago, if our
mighty Federation of Suns but con-
timres to I’eign, we shall hold against
all comers till the end of time this,
our universe!”

Next Month

The

MOONOFSKULLS

By ROBERT E. HOWARD

T he author of “The Shadow
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June issue of

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